


Fault

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-13
Updated: 2010-03-13
Packaged: 2019-04-20 18:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14267007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Quinn Fabary was confused and it was all Rachel Berry’s fault.





	1. Fault

**Title:** Fault  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R just to be safe for some sexual references  
**Length:** 4800  
**Spoilers:** Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth.  
**Summary:** Quinn Fabary was confused and it was all Rachel Berry’s fault.

* * *

 

It was all Rachel’s fault, at least, that was the way Quinn felt about it. After all, she never questioned her sexual orientation until Rachel started dating some secret girlfriend, not even when Brittany and Santana started making out in the backseat of her car. But Rachel flipping Berry started dating some girl and Rachel was so damn _secretive_ about who it was that it was hard not to get curious. But it’s not like Quinn wanted any of that. She was already the Cheerio that got kicked off the squad for getting pregnant, she was already the crappy teenaged mother that gave up her newborn baby girl three days after she was born and she was already the girl that got kicked out of her parents’ house and still hadn’t been let back in. So she did _not_ want to be the girl that suddenly started to question her sexual identity. No way. That was Rachel Berry territory, and Quinn wanted it to remain Rachel Berry territory.

Except it wasn’t.

Unlike almost everything else about Rachel, the brunette’s foray into dating girls was a relatively quiet affair. There was the winter formal dance in the middle of their junior year and no one in Glee other than Brittany and Santana were paired up with anyone. At least, that’s what everyone thought. Finn suggested that everyone just pair up and go together-- one big Glee event, team solidarity and all that crap. Everyone seemed really amenable to it, but Rachel stayed quiet.

“Rach?” Finn asked. “What do you think? I could pick you up.”

“Or I could,” Puck suggested.

Rachel was uncharacteristically quiet. She stared down at the ground for a moment and finally looked up. “I can’t,” she said apologetically. “I kind of already have plans.”

“What could _you_ possibly be doing?” Quinn demanded. They were friendly toward each other most of the time. Hell, they were even probably friends. But Quinn had not quite tamed her tendency to be mean to Rachel if the occasion presented itself. “Making a music video for MySpace? Just do it another day and come with us,” she said irritably.

Rachel was unruffled. “I already have plans,” she repeated. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Puck was visibly irritated. “Why?” he demanded. “Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?” he demanded. Despite the fact he hadn’t wanted a relationship with Rachel, he was frequently clearly possessive of her and became nearly apoplectic with jealousy whenever anyone of the male species demonstrated interest in her.

Rachel cleared her throat. “Girlfriend,” she corrected in a mutter.

The room went silent and then erupted into questioning roars.

\--  
  
The backstory was true Rachel Berry. And it went something like this:

“I was curious,” Rachel explained, without any shame or embarrassment. “And I met someone. And so we’re giving it a try.”

But no matter how much everyone begged for the details, Rachel wouldn’t give up much more information than that. Puck immediately thought that Rachel was dating a sexually confused cougar housewife, but that was only because he had a hankering for older women. Rachel would neither confirm nor deny this. Santana suggested that Rachel’s secret girlfriend was hideously disfigured, but once again, Rachel refused to confirm or deny. Kurt suggested that Rachel met this person on the internet and everyone seemed to think this was the most likely scenario. But Rachel refused to confirm or deny this too, which only added to everyone’s frustration.

“She’s not in a position where she can be open about our relationship, and that’s okay with me,” Rachel said. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

There were more questions, but Rachel refused to answer them, except to plead for everyone to keep it under wraps, because she didn’t want any rumors around the school or any scrutiny.

“If anything ever changes, I’ll introduce you guys,” Rachel swore. “But I’m not optimistic.” She gave them a wintry smile. “But I’m seeing where it takes me.”

It was Kurt who backed off first, and everyone else followed his example.

But Quinn suspected that it was someone at the school because of something Rachel said that no one else seemed to catch.

“We can’t go to the dance, but she wants to get together anyway.”

The only school that was having a Winter Formal that day was McKinley.

\--

Quinn and the rest of the Glee club kept the information under wraps, but they also watched Rachel a little more closely, hoping for a hint. They were respectful for her need for privacy when they were in public, but when it was just the Glee club, the questions were relentless. Still, Rachel was admirably close-lipped. Rachel seemed happy more or less, and then one day, she didn’t.

She didn’t make a big deal out of it, she wasn’t walking around crying and she wasn’t leaning back in her chair with her head tilted back and her wrist draped over her forehead. But she was unhappy. It was clear the relationship hadn’t worked out, and no one asked any more questions and no one brought it up again.

\--

Quinn figured out who Rachel’s secret girlfriend had been after Rachel started dating her male equivalent on the Vocal Adrenaline team. Rachel and the boy diva from Carmel High hit it off _instantly_ and it seemed like Vocal Adrenaline was trying to poach Rachel for their own team. There were murmurs in New Directions about Rachel’s potential for a split allegiance, but Quinn thought that was ridiculous. Rachel Berry would never in a million years put aside her dreams for a boy from their biggest competitor.

Quinn left campus late one school day after studying at the library and found Rachel talking to Cindy Wallace, a senior on the Cheerios. Cindy reminded Quinn a lot of herself. Cindy’s parents went to church with Quinn’s parents and Cindy’s parents were one of the few people that Quinn’s father overtly approved of. They had a really similar family background. She didn’t know Cindy all that well, just that Cindy was one of the tallest Cheerios on the squad and that she had a pretty high opinion of herself. Cindy was pretty--a person just had to look at her to know that. And she was smart, too. She kept mostly to herself, even amongst the other Cheerios, so people tended to think she was stuck-up. She kind of was, but Cindy had always been nice to Quinn, so Quinn really didn’t have anything against her.

“You didn’t have to date him, like, five seconds after we broke up! You didn’t have to be such a ho!” Cindy exclaimed.

Cindy was in tears and Rachel looked apologetic and pleading, but she was definitely the calmer one.

Quinn watched as Rachel put her hand over Cindy’s mouth to silence her. Rachel glanced around and her eyes widened in horror as she caught sight of Quinn. Cindy turned to follow Rachel’s gaze, and Quinn saw Cindy’s face fall, her eyes widening with panic.

Rachel gave Cindy a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and there was a hurried conversation before Rachel ushered Cindy into Cindy’s car. Rachel put her hand on the glass on the driver’s side window and smiled reassuringly. Cindy looked back at Quinn, her eyes wide and worried before she drove away.

Then Rachel stalked over to Quinn.

“You can’t tell anyone what you heard,” Rachel said, her voice low and vaguely menacing, but the expression in her eyes was anxious.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Like anyone is going to care who you’re dating.”

Rachel nodded slightly. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “No one is going to care. But people are going to care who Cindy is dating, and Quinn, if it gets around, her parents will _kill_ her. They’re _crazy_. You can’t tell anyone. You _can’t_. They’ll, like, send her off to one of those de-gaying camps and they’ll totally cut her off. She’s going to be 18 in three weeks and if they kick her out, no one is going to do anything. And she’s going to Berkeley in the fall, so if you tell _anyone_ she won’t get to have that and--”

“I won’t tell anyone, geez!” Quinn exclaimed.

Rachel’s eyes were pleading. “Promise?” she asked anxiously. “Do you promise me?”

Quinn heaved a deep, annoyed sigh. “I promise,” she said irritably.

Rachel smiled gratefully at her. Her mouth open and wide showing off even, white teeth. God, she had such a bright smile. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“How’d you two end up together anyway?”

Rachel’s smile was enigmatic. “It’s not all my story to tell,” she said simply. “I have to go,” she said, looking vaguely over her shoulder in the direction Cindy had driven away in. “I have to go talk to her. She’s freaking out and I need to tell her it’ll be okay.”

Quinn reached out to take Rachel by the shoulder. “You’re awfully loyal to someone who wouldn’t even be open about dating you.”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “Just because we’re not dating doesn’t mean I don’t care about her.”

“Then why’d you break up with her?”

Given how upset Cindy had been about Rachel dating someone new, Quinn assumed that it was Rachel who’d ended things. After all, Cindy was the one who was crying and Rachel was the one who’d moved on.

“I didn’t.”

\--

By end of the first semester of their senior year, Rachel and the boy diva were over, and Quinn and Rachel were closer, the secret they shared bringing them together.

“Hey, look,” Rachel said with a grin. “I got a message on my MySpace from a female admirer.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “When are you going to switch to Facebook like a normal person?”

“I have a Facebook,” Rachel said.

“How come you didn’t add me?”

Rachel grinned at her “Because I didn’t want to,” she joked.

Quinn huffed and slapped Rachel’s arm. “Add me,” she demanded.

“I will,” Rachel promised. “Anyway. Take a look at this.”

Quinn peered over Rachel’s shoulder at the screen. She read the message. It was from some girl named Daisy on Vocal Adrenaline who’d heard from a reliable source (read: Rachel’s ex-boyfriend) that Rachel swung both ways. Would Rachel be interested in meeting up? Quinn reached out to put her hand on the mouse and click on the girl’s page to look at the pictures.

“She looks like a cartoon,” Quinn said irritably.

“But in a good way,” Rachel added.

“Yeah, whatever,” Quinn said. “I didn’t know you liked Jessica Rabbit.”

Daisy was _adorable_ and Quinn could see that Rachel was attracted. Daisy looked like a character from a Japanese anime with big, wide eyes. Plus, Daisy was an admirer, and there were few things Rachel liked more than an admirer.

“Jessica Rabbit _is_ sexy,” Rachel agreed absently.

“Are you seriously thinking about meeting up with her?” Quinn demanded when she saw Rachel click back to the message and hit reply.

“Why not?” Rachel asked. “I’m not dating anyone, and there are very few prospects of either gender at McKinley. Daisy evidently shares my passion for music, we clearly have similar taste in music if her information on her profile is accurate and she has to be talented if she’s a Vocal Adrenaline member. I think I even remember meeting her once or twice while I was dating--”

“Because it’s totally like online dating,” Quinn interrupted. “And only losers online date.”

“You remind me that I’m a loser all the time, Quinn.”

“Yeah, but you’re a geeky loser. You have a big mouth and you’re so socially _wrong_ , I think you might have Asperger’s. Your outfits are so bad, I wish I could send you the bill every time I have an eye exam, I mean, sometimes I literally _hurt_ looking at you. But you’re _not_ online dating loser category.”

Rachel laughed. “But she’s not a total stranger,” she pointed out. She clicked back onto Daisy’s profile and scanned through the pictures again, pausing at one which had a close-up of Daisy’s ample breasts. “I find her…intriguing.”

Quinn rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but stare at Daisy’s breasts, too. “Please, her boobs aren’t even that nice.”

“They’re nicer than mine.”

“No, they’re not,” Quinn disagreed. She instantly wished she could slap her hand over her mouth, but she knew that would be even worse. She dearly hoped Rachel wouldn’t ask her why she would even know what Rachel’s breasts looked like. She’d sneaked a peek when they were changing into their costumes at Nationals during the previous school year.

Rachel raised an eyebrow and looked at her questioningly. “Uh, thanks,” she said.

Rachel clicked back to her inbox and visibly brightened.

“It’s Cindy,” she said happily. She clicked on the message and skimmed it briefly, before X-ing out of it and bringing her attention back to Quinn. “Okay, break’s over. We should finish that assignment for Mr. Schue.”

“I didn’t know you and Cindy still talked.”

“She’s my friend, Quinn.”

“Well, _we’re_ friends, and you didn’t tell me you guys still talked.”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to _our_ friendship.”

“I know you haven’t had a lot of experience with friendships,” Quinn said. “But usually, friends share that kind of thing with one another. Especially since I kept your secret about you and Cindy all this time.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “So I’m supposed to laud you for keeping a secret? I thought friendships were also about keeping one another’s confidences.”

“It’s sort of a two way street, Rach.”

Rachel chuckled. “We stay in touch,” she admitted simply. “We’re friends.”

“Even though she broke up with you?”

No matter how many times Quinn asked, Rachel never said anything about how her relationship with Cindy really ended. And by the time Quinn learned of Rachel’s relationship with Cindy, Rachel was already dating that guy from Vocal Adrenaline, so it just seemed irrelevant. Why keep asking about an ex, when her friend was already dating someone new? But at the time, Quinn had to admit, she’d been way more curious about the ex-girlfriend than the new boyfriend. And now that Rachel and the boyfriend were broken up, it seemed like fair game to ask about the ex-girlfriend.

Rachel looked uncomfortable. “She said she couldn’t do it,” she said quietly. “She said it was too hard to keep lying to her folks and her friends and she said she loved me, but she loved her life more, so she was choosing her life. But she said she wanted to still be my friend. That’s the whole story.”

Quinn peered closely at Rachel. “Did you love her?”

Rachel winced. “No,” she said softly. “I liked her a lot. But it was clear to me that she was really just a friend. But I needed to…I needed to be sure, you know? Because I wasn’t sure what I really wanted. It was kind of a relief when she ended it. I wouldn’t have.”

“What was it like? Quinn asked quietly, wishing she hadn’t asked, but now that she got Rachel talking about it, she wasn’t sure when another opportunity would come up. She knew she was probably being totally transparent.

Rachel shrugged. “Honestly? Not that different. I realize people say it is, but it’s not. I mean, she was…softer. Her lips were softer, her hands were softer, her skin was softer. She didn’t have stubble anywhere, and generally, she smelled nicer. But it was still just, you know, lips on lips, skin on skin. It was still just hand holding, kissing, sex. It wasn’t different the way I thought it would be. It was the same a lot more than it was different.”

Quinn swallowed hard. God, she hated Rachel Berry sometimes, because yeah, they were friends, and pretty good ones at that. But she had no idea why Rachel Berry had to question her sexuality which made Quinn question her own. It was all Rachel’s fault. If only Rachel hadn’t announced that she was dating a girl, if only she’d just _lied_ about her plans on Winter Formal night instead of telling the damn truth, Quinn wouldn’t be in this mess. This fucking _mess_ where she thought about what it would be like to kiss lips that were softer, to have hands on her which were softer, skin pressed against her that was soft and not rough, to have legs that were soft and hairless rather than muscled and hairy. She wouldn’t wonder what it would be like to touch a cheek that didn’t have to be shaved, she wouldn’t wonder what it felt like to touch a chest that was soft with the swell of breasts rather than hardened by muscle. She wouldn’t wonder about what it would be like to touch another girl in between the legs when she touched herself. She wouldn’t have to _wonder_ all the damn time. It was all Rachel’s fault!  
  
Quinn cleared her throat. “And what about--”

Rachel interrupted her quickly, knowing exactly who Quinn was going to ask about.

“Him I loved,” she said flatly. “That’s all I’m going to say about that.”

Everyone said he was the male version of her, but he wasn’t. Maybe it seemed like that to the outside world, but she never would have done the things he’d done to her. Not to anyone. Not to someone she professed to love. They were different in all the ways that mattered and similar in ways that were completely irrelevant. No one in her entire life had hurt her the way he’d hurt her and it was hard enough thinking about how she’d have to see him again the next time they went up against Vocal Adrenaline. And she had to admit, a part of the reason this Daisy girl was so intriguing to her was because she had a masochistic streak that wanted to see him again.

“So you loved him, but you didn’t love her. That means--”

“Why so curious, Quinn?” Rachel interrupted.

“I’m just _interested_. Friends are interested in each other’s lives, okay?” Quinn said defensively.

“Well, I’d prefer not to talk about him ever again,” Rachel said. “It’s _clearly_ over with him and I don’t see why I should have to think about it just because you’re _interested_.”  
Just thinking about him agitated her. The bad outweighed the good. That was the worst part. As good and sweet as he could be, when it came down to it, the bad outweighed the good

“I wasn’t asking about _him_ ,” Quinn protested. “I was asking about _her_.”

“Well, why are you even asking about Cindy anyway?” Rachel asked irritably. “She’s none of your business, either.”

“I was just curious, okay? I just wanted to know what it was like to be with a girl!” Quinn exclaimed.

“Why would _you_ be--” Rachel trailed off. “ _Oh._ ”

Quinn’s mouth was a perfect, horrified ‘O’. She put her hand over her mouth as thought that could cram the words back into her mouth, like it would somehow take back her outburst. “Oh God,” she breathed.

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly, putting her hands on Quinn’s shoulders. “Look, it’s okay to be curious. It’s _normal_ , okay? I know for me it was--”

“It’s _not_ normal!” Quinn shouted. “Not everyone gets to be _you_ , Rachel. Not everyone gets to date a girl one day and then go back to dating boys like it’s _nothing_ , like it’s that _easy_!”

If this was actually happening to her, if she liked _girls_ , then there was no way in hell she was ever going to get back a normal life. She wasn’t going to marry some nice guy and have kids with him and live in the suburbs and have everything work out all right despite the fact that she was once an unwed pregnant teen. She still had a _chance_ at normalcy, but if this was actually happening to her, if she liked girl, there was no way she was ever going to have a chance at a normal life.

She wanted Rachel to tell her that girls were gross. She wanted some more graphic details. She wanted Rachel to describe it to her and she wanted to recoil in disgust. She did _not_ want to think about what it would feel like to have soft hands and soft fingers between her legs and have that feel _nice_. She wanted to be disgusted at the thought of it. She didn’t want Rachel’s G-rated explanation about the difference between boys and girls to get her to start thinking about how soft Rachel’s hands were, or how soft Rachel’s lips looked, or how those lips would feel between her legs. And if she _did_ start thinking about that, she wanted to be grossed out by it, disgusted-- and not just because it was Rachel, but by the thought of _any_ girl’s lips and mouth there. But the problem was-- she wasn’t grossed out by it. Instead her underwear felt wet and constricting and what she wanted more than anything was a soft hand between her legs that wasn’t her own.

And God, apparently it was just so _easy_ for Rachel. Rachel could date a girl and not fall in love and then fall in love with a _boy_ , break up with him and be interested in some cartoon-looking girl that hit her up on MySpace. It was all so goddamn easy for Rachel, but it was _not_ going to be that easy for Quinn, and the blonde just knew it.

“Quinn,” Rachel said softly. “It _can_ be that easy. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for who you like, okay? If you like girls--”

“I don’t!”

“Okay,” Rachel said quietly. “But hypothetically, in the unlikely event that you like girls, you don’t owe it to anyone to explain, okay? Just like you don’t owe it to anyone to explain why you like guys. It’s _none_ of anyone’s business.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Quinn said suddenly, pleadingly. “I kept your secret about Cindy. You can’t tell anyone about this.”

Rachel squeezed Quinn’s shoulder reassuringly. “Of course I won’t tell anyone,” she said softly. “I told you, it’s none of anyone’s business. Not mine, either.”

Quinn swallowed hard, feeling marginally calmer. “Tell me why you didn’t love her.”

She had to know. She had to know why she and Rachel were so different, because Quinn was fairly sure that if she’d dated a girl, any girl, she would have fallen in love. If she’d gotten so far to the point of _dating_ a girl, Quinn was fairly sure she would have just gone to whole way into love.

“Well, I did love her,” Rachel explained softly. “But it was more just…you know, friends. I mean, she _really_ didn’t want to be gay, which was okay, because I understood. But she was…” Rachel bit her lower lip. “She was mean to me a lot because she didn’t want to be. And I couldn’t figure it out because she was the one who approached me. Why would I have approached her? And she kept saying she was sorry about being mean but she never stopped being mean. Don’t misunderstand, she was nice to me a lot, too. But she was _mean_ and I understood why, but how am I supposed to fall in love with someone who didn’t want to love me and was mean to me all the time because of it? But with her family and all… I got where she was coming from and I felt awful for her. I really wished her parents were as good to her as my dads are to me, and I adored her, but I really only loved her as friends.”

She wished her self-control had extended to not falling in love with boyfriends who were mean to her more often than not, but Rachel tried to push thoughts of him out of her mind.

“So if she’d been nicer to you, you would have….”

“Of course,” Rachel said softly. “What wasn’t to love about her?”

“So you _are_ …”

“Gay?” Rachel asked quietly, peering at Quinn intently. “I don’t know,” Rachel said honestly. “I’ve only dated one girl and that was Cindy. Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but I’m not going to let anyone tell me I can’t figure that out on my own for myself. It’s not anyone else’s business.”

“What if you are?”

“What if I’m what?” Rachel asked gently.

“Gay.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to file for a domestic partnership, although frankly, I hope by the time I am ready to get married, Americans will be more open-minded about marriage equality.”

Quinn gave her a small smile. “What if you’re not?”

“Then I guess I’ll get married. But I still hope that Americans will be more open-minded about marriage equality either way.”

“I don’t want to be,” Quinn said quietly.

“Hey,” Rachel said. “Do you want to be one of those 50 year old women with a husband and six kids who figures it out way too late and hurts everyone by leaving her family for a woman? Or do you want to be 90 years old and be on your deathbed and wonder what it would it have been like? It’s not a big deal, Quinn. Being gay isn’t the end of the world, and you aren’t the only one who is curious.”

Quinn averted her eyes. “Yeah, I guess,” she said flatly. She wanted to change the subject. “So, like, are you going to meet up with that Daisy girl?” She did _not_ want to mention that the thought of Rachel meeting up with that girl was making her want to bite her own tongue and choke on her own blood. And she wanted to scratch that Daisy girl’s eyes out.

She was confused and it was _all_ Rachel’s fault.

Rachel looked intently at her. “Well, I _am_ free Friday night.”

“It is date night,” Quinn said glumly.

Rachel smiled at her. “Are you free?”

Quinn‘s head snapped up, startled. “What?”

“I’m still figuring it out and you’re confused,” Rachel said simply. “Let’s hang out and see if we can’t figure it out together.” She smiled reassuringly at Quinn. “We don’t have to do anything. Not Friday, not ever,” she promised. “We’re friends. But let’s see if we can’t… _unconfuse_ things. It can just be a normal Friday night.”

“But you’re still in love with _him_ ,” Quinn said, making a face. She hated him, too. But only because Rachel seemed sadder after him than before him.

Rachel smiled crookedly. “No one said it would be easy.”

She knew she’d get over him eventually. It would just take time. She wanted to be loved, but she wasn’t _desperate_ for it, and she felt like she debased herself enough for him. If she tried to get him back then she really would be as stupid as she thought she was.

“We don’t have to do anything?” Quinn asked quietly.

“It might even be weird if we did,” Rachel said in breezy, lazy tones.

“But not _that_ weird,” Quinn added quickly. Because she wasn’t about to give up anything upfront.

“No.”

Quinn grinned shyly at Rachel and Rachel smiled back.

“This Daisy girl is probably a sure thing, you know,” Quinn said.

Rachel smiled. “I’m not big on sure things. I like long shots.”

Quinn looked worried. “If this goes bad, if it doesn’t work--”

“I like long shots, Quinn.” She smiled. “So are you free on Friday night?”

Quinn smiled back and nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly.

Rachel grinned at her. “Okay, then. I’m going to assign you homework before our date. I think it’s important that you become aware of all the websites and resources out there. I’ll email you the links. And be sure to take some pamphlets before you go home. I have plenty.”

Quinn grimaced. “Couldn’t you just, like, give me a cheat sheet?”

“This is very important, Quinn.”

“This is ridiculous, Rachel.”

They stared at each other silently for a full minute before Quinn finally gave in. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Email me the links and give me the pamphlets.”

Rachel grinned triumphantly. “You won’t regret it.”

“I think I already do,” Quinn huffed.

But she didn’t regret it because Quinn Fabray soon became _un_ confused and it was all Rachel Berry’s fault and Quinn was okay with that.


	2. Woke Up New

**Title:** Woke Up New  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R just to be safe for some sexual references  
**Length:** 10,000  
**Spoilers:** Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth.  
**Summary:** Follow-up to ‘Fault.’ In here, I ask, “Who hated spring?” (the season) and for anyone else who hates Spring, I DO, TOO. I have major allergies, I am a damn hot mess in the Spring. I have ONE more follow-up which is more Rachel POV. Woke Up New is a song by the Mountain Goats, but it’s actually about a breakup. This is a reverse of a breakup.

* * *

 

“No one said it would be easy,” Rachel once told her, right before they started dating.

It was an accurate statement of what was to come.

Quinn Fabray was pretty confident in her abilities to hold someone’s interest, particularly the interest of someone she was dating. It was sort of mortifying that Rachel was more experienced than she was, but she comforted herself by rationalizing that Rachel was kind of a ho, and Jewish, so it’s not like she had a fear of Hell which kept her in line for most of her life. On the other hand, she was from a family of good-standing (even if it was primarily comprised of assholes) and feared going to Hell since she was five years old in Sunday school. She was bitchy and mean, but she wasn’t evil. And despite having a baby out of wedlock, she wasn’t really a ho. She wasn’t ready to go any further, and Rachel wasn’t pushing for more, which was nice. And given the way Rachel would get flushed and breathy when all they did was make-out, Quinn liked to believe Rachel was satisfied. She liked to believe she held Rachel’s interest.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Rachel assured. “No pressure. We could even read a manual or something. I’m sure there is a myriad of reference material we could look into, maybe even some 3-D models or--”

“Please stop,” Quinn said, wincing at the thought of manuals and 3-D models of anatomy that were to scale. She had a flashback to fifth grade sex ed, which was more about basic anatomy, like calling things by their name (penis, vagina) and not by some ridiculous nickname (peepee, hoohaw) and like, nocturnal emissions. Then she wondered if there really were 3-D models to scale that simulated lesbian sex, sort of like those 3-D models of the solar system where the planets actually rotated around the sun. It gave her the shivers, and not in a good way. As hot as Rachel could be-- and Lord God, Quinn could concede Rachel could be very _very_ hot, the girl really knew how to ruin a mood.

But at least Quinn was reasonably convinced Rachel wasn’t with her just for the promise of sex. Just because Quinn wasn’t a virgin anymore didn’t mean she wanted to have sex all the time. It wasn’t like that at all, in fact. And there were multiple times when Rachel completely ruined the mood, when Quinn was on the verge of telling Rachel she was ready, that she wanted it. Like the time when they were making out and Rachel pulled away to say that she was thirsty, so she scrambled away and came back with a glass of carrot juice and prattled off about how once, when she was little, her fathers fed her so many carrots, she turned orange, and they took her to the pediatrician, and the pediatrician was like, “stop feeding her so many carrots.” Rachel told the story complete with imitating voices and accompanying hand gestures, and while it was really _cute_ and honestly did sort of endear Rachel to Quinn more because she was picturing an orange younger version of Rachel, it also ruined the mood. Or the time when Quinn and Rachel were at the video store and Quinn said she was in the mood for a horror movie with the sole intent to make out with Rachel, because you were _supposed_ to grab onto the person you were dating during suspenseful moments in horror movies, and Quinn had this whole plan to be cool and suave. Rachel chose _Teeth_ , a fucking movie about vagina dentata, which completely freaked Quinn out and then it turned out Rachel had actually already seen the movie before, which led Quinn to wonder what sort of person would want to see _that_ movie again?

Seriously--vagina fucking dentata? Rachel could be such a mood killer sometimes, and it was utterly exasperating. Once, they watched a pornographic movie together, which sort of embarrassed Quinn to admit, but Rachel said that maybe they could learn something from it, and so Quinn agreed because she was kind of curious about it.

The movie itself was horrible. There was no plot, and the girls were all so intimidating in their bodily perfection. And the girls were just so _raunchy_ , it freaked her out. But she found herself getting turned on nonetheless, and she thought about doing some of those things with Rachel, which she supposed had been the whole point. She thought about her mouth in between Rachel’s legs, thought about making Rachel moan and writhe around like the girls in that video, she thought about how Rachel would look with her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. But then Rachel said, “hey! I have a towel just like that,” and pointed at the stupid beach towel that was lying on the lounge chair, _way_ in the background. She sounded so ridiculously pleased with herself, and then she stopped the DVD to try to search for that towel just so she could prove it to Quinn, despite the fact the blonde insisted she didn’t care. And once again, the moment was lost. And Quinn was utterly baffled by how she was so turned on, and Rachel seemed so unfazed, because really, getting fixated on the _towel_? It wasn’t even particularly nice!

“See?” Rachel said, flashing a pleased grin at Quinn and holding up the towel. “It’s the same, right?”

Quinn rolled her eyes and sighed, humoring Rachel by looking at the towel and then staring at the towel on the TV, _way_ in the background.

“It is,” she agreed.

Then Rachel kissed her, and Quinn forgot that she was irritated with Rachel for having such talent for ruining moments. They kissed until Rachel pulled away and offered to drive Quinn home. And although Quinn wanted to stay, she just knew what would happen if she did. And she didn’t think she was ready yet. So she nodded and Rachel smiled at her and then Rachel drove her home.

Quinn took a cold shower-- she took a lot of cold showers since she started dating Rachel. She took a lot more cold showers dating Rachel than she had while she was dating poor Finn, that was for sure. It was yet another indicator she was definitely more gay than she was straight. And when she scrubbed herself with body wash, her hands running down her body with a loofah sponge, she thought about those women in that DVD, the way they’d touched one another, and she thought about Rachel touching her in a way she never thought about Finn or Puck touching her.

She wanted sex, but she didn’t want it and she was constantly at odds with herself. On the one hand, all those values that had been driven into her-- chastity, purity, virginity and all that stuff, were still important to her. Granted she wasn’t a virgin anymore, but she didn’t have to keep doing it. On the other hand, she _really_ wanted Rachel. Rachel was always sweetly respectful-- her hands never strayed below the waist, and only touched Quinn’s breasts when Quinn was okay with. Quinn didn’t feel any pressure from Rachel _at all_ , but she did wonder how much longer Rachel would be patient. Not that she ever asked Rachel-- she just wondered.

So even though sometimes, she wanted to shout “will you _please_ stop cockblocking your own stupid self?!” she was also kind of relieved that Rachel cockblocked her own stupid self.

\--  
  
Rachel never seemed all that interested in anyone else, at least, no one they went to school with, and in between regular school hours, glee, other extracurricular activities and after school study groups, they really did spend the bulk of their day in school. Quinn had the sense Rachel may still be hung up on her ex-girlfriend and she was _definitely_ hung up on her ex-boyfriend, but Rachel seemed so trustworthy. But still, Quinn got the sense Rachel was hiding _something_ or maybe just holding back. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that even though Rachel was unbelievably _sweet_ to her, something felt off. Something felt wrong between them, and Quinn couldn’t put her finger on it, because for the most part, she was pretty happy with Rachel. After all, it was the first time she dated someone who let her set the pace, who demanded nothing of her. But Rachel just seemed _blank_ and she didn’t seem at all inclined to make more of an effort to be present. It was downright unsettling, and Quinn knew she should put that aside, but she couldn’t.

Then Rachel’s ex-girlfriend came home from Berkeley for Spring Break during their senior year of high school, and Quinn was immediately suspicious. And then she got pissed off at how incredibly insensitive Rachel could be because Rachel didn’t seem to understand that spending time with her ex-girlfriend would make Quinn jealous. Not that Quinn admitted she was jealous, of course. But she was definitely peeved and Rachel was frustratingly mystified about why that would be.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” Quinn asked on the last day of school before Spring Break, which was a Friday.

“Did we have plans?” Rachel asked quizzically.

“Don’t we always?” Quinn asked irritably. “It’s _date_ night.”

“But last week you wanted to have girls’ night with Brittany and Santana and you said I wasn’t invited because the whole point of girls’ night is to be away from the person you are dating. And I pointed out that Brittany and Santana are dating, and you said that I counted as the boy in this relationship because I have Man Hands and--”

“I remember what I said,” Quinn cut off, crankily.

She’d had to deal with the wave of guilt when she saw the flash of hurt on Rachel’s face, and then the irrational anger she felt towards the brunette when Rachel chose not to comment on something that clearly hurt her. Because, God, passive-aggressive, much?

Then she had to deal with anxiety all night when Rachel didn’t call her or text her even once. She’d be painting her toes and glance at her phone, hoping that it would light up with a text message or something, but it never did.

Then she had to deal with the jealousy she felt when Kurt texted her in all capital letters with multiple exclamation marks that Rachel was sitting in a booth at Dahlia’s with that jerk ex-boyfriend of hers. And of course, she had to call Rachel ranting, and then had to feel completely chastened when Rachel quietly said she was just picking up some late night take-out for movie night with her dads when she ran into that jerk, and she felt too awkward turning him down when he asked her to sit while she waited for the food.

“He was with his new girlfriend,” Rachel explained quietly once Quinn finished a particularly vituperative tirade. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

It was then that Quinn realized being irrationally jealous meant she was way more invested into the relationship than she wanted. She wanted to be kinder to Rachel, she really did, but there was always this compulsion not to be. She was frequently insensitive to Rachel, but she wasn’t insensitive to being insensitive.

Now it was just one weekend later, and it was Rachel who had plans when Quinn didn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be like this-- Rachel was supposed to be free when Quinn was free. She shouldn’t be the one with a life. And God help her, but she was still pissed at Rachel for even _talking_ to that guy, so she’d been a little meaner to Rachel all week. Rachel didn’t comment or call her out on it, but Quinn couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Rachel wanted some time away from her, and that was why Rachel never asked Quinn if she wanted to do something that night.

“What are you doing tonight if you weren’t planning on hanging out with me?” Quinn asked.

She wasn’t looking for an invitation or anything (well...maybe) and she definitely did not want to be one of those girls who had to do _everything_ with the person they were dating (she really didn’t-- sometimes, she got nauseous at the way Brittany and Santana did everything together and were so damnably happy being together). But Quinn did think she had _some_ right to know what Rachel was doing that night. They were dating, after all.

“Well, Cindy is coming in for Spring Break. She said her parents are working late, so she asked if I could pick her up from the airport. So I am.”

Quinn was understandably outraged. “You’re spending date night picking up your ex-girlfriend from the airport?”

“My _friend_ , Cindy,” Rachel corrected. “I didn’t want to assume you were free, so--”

“So you assumed I wasn’t?”

Rachel muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “stop being such a woman.”

“What?” Quinn demanded.

“Nothing,” Rachel said innocently, her eyes, wide. She smiled sweetly at Quinn. “Would you like to join me?”

“ _No_ ,” Quinn said balefully. “No, I don’t want to pick up your ex-girlfriend at the airport with you.”

“Call me if you change your mind. I can pick you u--”

“I won’t. Just call me when you get home.”  
\--

Quinn was nearly crazed with jealousy. First she stared at her phone and started to believe if she stared hard enough at it, it would either ring or beep. Then she thought possibly her phone was out of order, so she used her grandmother’s landline to call herself, and it rang to indicate it was working. But just as she was about to hang-up, her grandmother picked up the other phone and started dialing, and so Quinn had to call out she was using the phone. But then her grandmother got confused as to why Quinn’s own voice was answering on the other line and so Quinn had to explain she was calling herself and then her grandmother asked if she’d lost her cell phone or something and it led into this entire big _discussion_ and really, Quinn just wanted to shout that all she wanted to do was to make sure her phone worked. But she didn’t want to explain why. She irrationally blamed Rachel for the whole debacle.

But most of all, she was worried. She was worried that Cindy would have gotten it together in college-- after all, she was at Berkeley, which was near San Francisco which was practically the gay capital of America, right? All that freedom, being so far away from home-- surely Cindy would have figured something out. And she remembered how distraught Cindy was, even though she’d been the one to initiate the breakup. Quinn was worried Rachel would be impressed with Cindy and she was worried Rachel would end things with her in favor of Cindy. It just seemed so damn _easy_ for Rachel-- she got crushes on guys and girls, just seemed so willing to go from person to person, from girl to boy. Quinn didn’t think it would be so easy for herself.

\--

When Rachel hadn’t called by 10pm, Quinn was jealous and angry, when she hadn’t called by midnight, Quinn was jealous and furious, and when she hadn’t called by 2am, Quinn was jealous, enraged and worried. How long could it take to pick some girl up from the airport and drop her off? She wasn’t so much worried Rachel was in an accident, because Rachel was old lady careful when she drove. She was worried Rachel was in bed with Cindy somewhere.

So from 2am onward, she called Rachel relentlessly every few minutes. She didn’t want to, but she was just compelled. It was a compulsion, and she had to obey, because the very definition of a compulsion was something you didn’t necessarily want to _do_ , but you had to anyway. And each time it went to voicemail, and each text message she sent was unreturned, it just fueled her frustration.

Until finally, Rachel did answer.

Quinn knew something was wrong from the moment Rachel said “hi.” Her voice, her tone, the volume, it was all wrong.

She ascertained pretty quickly that Rachel wasn’t driving, but she wasn’t sure _where_ Rachel was, or where she was going because Rachel didn’t seem to know either.

Rachel passed the phone to Cindy, who was the one driving, and Quinn made sure that Cindy was okay to drive, because hello, that was Quinn’s sort-of girlfriend in the passenger seat. They argued back and forth, but Cindy finally agreed to stop by Quinn’s house, rather than driving straight to her own house and having Rachel sleep over there.  
  
Cindy got into the backseat once Quinn got into the driver’s seat, and they drove in silence to Cindy’s house. But Quinn got out of the car when Cindy did and she was _furious_ that Cindy seemed completely sober, whereas Rachel blotto drunk. She didn’t know what the hell Cindy was planning, but Quinn didn’t like it. “She didn’t really care about what I wanted,” Rachel once told her about Cindy. “I wasn’t ready our first time, even though it wasn’t my first time. That’s why I don’t pressure you,” Rachel explained when Quinn finally asked her why Rachel wasn’t pushing for them to go any further.

Quinn saw the way Cindy looked at Rachel and it wasn’t friendly and Quinn didn’t like it. There was yearning and regret, and it was just so _plain_ on Cindy’s face. Quinn had no idea why Rachel couldn’t see it. Quinn didn’t think Cindy was the kind of person to get Rachel drunk just to take advantage of her, but Rachel herself always said she never learned to say ‘no’ to Cindy, even when she wanted to.

Quinn re-entered her bedroom with a glass of juice and a bottle of waster at the precise moment Rachel had woken up and was glancing around the bedroom.

“Cin?” Rachel called out in confusion.

“She’s home,” Quinn informed her.

Rachel squinted up at Quinn. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?”

Rachel sighed irritably. “Why would I ask you if you did?”

“Well, your _ex_ -girlfriend thought she should take you to her house, but I convinced her otherwise.”

Rachel frowned. “What happened?”

“You were drunk,” Quinn said gruffly. “Cindy thought she should take you to her house, but I convinced her to drive you here instead. Then I took her home. I didn’t want to take you home because you were pretty obnoxious and I was afraid your dads would wake up and my grandma’s kind of hard of hearing, so I brought you back here.”

“But I could have just stayed with Cindy,” Rachel said, more like she was thinking out loud.

Quinn glared at her. “Oh, really?”

Rachel flushed. “I just meant, you didn’t have to get involved. I mean, you weren’t the one I got drunk with, so why should you be the one to take care of me?”

Quinn softened. “I didn’t mind.”

Quinn was embarrassed for herself that she practically blew up Rachel’s phone with phone calls and text messages. She wondered what would have happened if Rachel hadn’t finally picked up the phone.

At first, it was sort of funny Rachel was so drunk, because she was alternately passed out and hilariously alert and awake. Like, when Rachel woke up on the drive to Cindy’s house from Quinn’s, she went from being passed out to randomly singing “Take On Me” as loudly as she could. Both Quinn and Cindy smiled in amusement as Rachel clutched her heart, threw her arms in the air, pretended her fist was a microphone she could sing into. “Take on me,” she sang in the most heartfelt tones, ever.

It was so silly and cute, and it was even funnier because the radio wasn’t on. Quinn found herself wishing she could film Rachel’s drunken shenanigans because she could embarrass Rachel with the footage, but more importantly, she honestly wanted to keep a tangible memory of it. It was just so _adorable_.

But Quinn was _furious_ when she saw Cindy turn in her seat to reach out to Rachel.

“Baby,” Cindy said softly, smiling tenderly at Rachel. She cupped Rachel’s cheek and Rachel held her head forward, fucking leaning in _toward_ Cindy! “You know I think it’s cute when you get drunk and sing without music, but put your seatbelt back on, okay?” Cindy asked, grinning at Rachel like they were sharing some stupid private joke.

Rachel looked back at Cindy, smile bright and eyes wide. “You still think I’m cute?”

“I’ve always thought you were cute.”

Rachel grinned back at her. She flopped backward, sinking deeper into the backseat and buckled herself back in. Then she fell asleep again and snored softly.

Quinn could have eaten her own liver at that moment, she was so furious.

Rachel was still asleep when Cindy got her things out of the trunk. Quinn got out, too, and angrily confronted her.

“I _know_ you used to date Rachel,” Quinn snapped, feeling a moment of malicious pleasure when she saw the blood drain out of Cindy’s face. “What were you planning getting her drunk and keeping her out all night like this?”

“I wasn’t planning _anything_ ,” Cindy protested, hands raised defensively. “Rach and I are friends.”  
  
“Well, I don’t see _you_ drunk,” Quinn said.

Cindy’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you even care about what Rachel and I do?” she asked. “Don’t think I don’t know that you were the one blowing up Rachel’s phone all night.”

Quinn felt her face turn red. “That’s none of your business.”

“Well, Rachel and I are none of your business, either.”

“Yes, it is!” Quinn snapped before she could stop herself.

Cindy looked at Quinn and then back at the car where Rachel was passed out. She looked suddenly despondent. “ _Oh_ ,” she said, more in a whisper to herself. She hurried away, practically fleeing as she grabbed her stuff. Quinn stared after her, wishing she could shank Cindy in the back.

Quinn drove around for a little while. Her grandmother was already asleep and kind of a deep sleeper, but she didn’t want to risk going home too soon and have Rachel wake up and start singing A-Ha’s entire discography. She needed Rachel to sober up a little bit, and she knew she couldn’t take Rachel home because Rachel’s fathers would be upset if she came home in this state.

“Quinn,” Rachel murmured happily, when she woke up again during the drive. “I’m glad you’re here.” She pressed her forehead into Quinn’s upper arm as Quinn drove.

“Oh really?” Quinn asked. “Because I’m supposed to know that because you called me so often tonight, right?” she asked bitterly. “And because you were so friendly with her right in front of me?”

Rachel sighed. “Cindy made me nervous,” she admitted with a soft sigh. “But I didn’t want to be with her tonight. I wanted to be with you. But she asked me to pick her up from the airport, and we’re friends, and friends do that for each other.” Rachel frowned. “I hate the airport,” she complained peevishly. “I hope she doesn’t ask me to drop her off when she has to go back to Berkeley.”

Quinn bit her lower lip in amusement, feeling some of her jealousy slip away at how annoyed Rachel sounded. “So nothing happened between you two?”

Rachel snorted. “No,” she said. “I don’t want to do anything with her anymore.”

Quinn smiled, feeling a little cocky. “Good.”

“I’m glad _you’re_ here though,” Rachel said with a soft sigh. Quinn could feel Rachel’s eyelashes as Rachel’s eyes fluttered shut. “She’s pushy and I always end up doing things I don’t want to do with her. It felt good most of the time, but I didn’t always want to and I don’t think she cared. You don’t make me do anything I don’t want to.”

Quinn pursed her lips, feeling disdain for Rachel’s ex-girlfriend rise up. She wanted to ask a little more about it, but Rachel had always left it as feeling pushed into doing something before she was ready. Rachel seemed to think this was normal, and maybe it was. Quinn always wanted more information about it, but Rachel seemed uncomfortable, and it was one thing to try to get drunken honesty from the girl you were dating, but it was a total other thing to take advantage of the drunken state of the girl you were dating by trying to get information she didn’t _want_ to give you when she was sober.

“You don’t want to do…stuff with me?”Quinn asked hesitantly, because God, she’d never had Rachel like this, all drunkenly honest. It was a good opportunity, even if she felt a little manipulative. She wasn’t going to fish for information about Rachel’s other relationships, but she thought she could fish for a little more information from Rachel on how she felt about theirs. That felt…acceptable.

Rachel sighed again. “I do,” she assured and then Rachel shifted and Quinn felt the tip of Rachel’s nose sort of slide up the length of her arm and then Rachel was kissing that space where her neck met her shoulder. “But I was always rushed into it sooner than I wanted to.” The tip of her tongue peeked out and licked Quinn’s neck. “I just want us to take our time. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Quinn breathed. It was the only thing she could say because Rachel’s mouth on her neck was incredibly distracting.

Rachel pulled back and settled back into the passenger seat. She leaned her back against the door and tilted her head back so that the back of her head rested against the glass of the window. “Are you ready?” she asked quietly, squinting at Quinn.”We can do it if you’re ready.”

Quinn paused and thought about it. “No,” she answered quietly, honestly. “I’m not ready.”

Rachel looked hesitant. “Are you just saying that? Because it’s okay if you want to,” she said very seriously. “If you’re ready… we can…I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to wait. I understand if you don’t want to wait. I love you, so if you want to, I’ll do anything you want.”

Quinn frowned. “I’m not just saying that. I’m not ready.”

Rachel smiled happily, relieved. “Then we’re the same.”

“I guess we are.” Quinn said.

Quinn paused, wondering if she had the nerve to ask all the questions to which she was afraid of the answers.

“Do you like them more than you like me?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel whispered.

\--

She was meaner to Rachel than she had to be after that. Rachel asked her time and again if she’d said something embarrassing or incriminating or hurtful whilst drunk, but each time, Quinn denied it. She didn't _want_ to be so mean, but she found herself making really derisive comments about Rachel’s hair, her clothes, her make-up, her singing-- everything. If Quinn got a better grade than Rachel on some school project, Quinn made a point to be mean about it. If some other girl in Glee got a solo over Rachel, she made a point to wonder out loud if Rachel was losing her touch. If Rachel so much _looked_ at someone else with interest, Quinn went out of her way to tell Rachel, “don’t get any ideas, Treasure Trail. I doubt they’d want anything to do with you anyway.” It was horrible, and it _felt_ horrible, and all it did was drive Rachel further away, which was the exact opposite of what Quinn really wanted.

It was just…she felt the compulsion to ruin everything all the time, because this relationship wrecked the pieces of her that were left over from being wrecked by parental rejection and abandonment, from having lifelong friends turn their backs on her and spread rumors about her, from giving away a tiny perfect baby because she just couldn’t do it. She tried so hard to put everything back together again. She knew she wasn’t Humpty Dumpty-- she wasn’t so shattered that she couldn’t be put back together again, but God, her life was hard enough.

It was hard enough to question her sexuality, to go from thinking boys were hunky, if a little annoying and kind of a chore, to swallowing hard at the sight of breasts in the locker room. It was hard enough to admit to herself she liked Rachel a little more than she was comfortable with. But Rachel was the only one she really trusted these days, and honestly, the only one she really wanted-- and Rachel’s attention constantly seemed divided. _That_ was too hard. And every time something happened to make Quinn believe things were _really_ good between them, she’d also get some small confirmation of her fear that she liked Rachel more than Rachel liked her. And then she felt that compulsion to ruin everything rise up in full force. So she was mean to Rachel and Rachel pulled away. But Rachel always came back, and that was what Quinn was counting on.

\--

Rachel was a collector. Not stamps or stickers or anything lame like that, but she was a collector, nonetheless. It was probably because she was an only child whose parents meticulously documented her childhood. Everything was documented and it sort of irritated Quinn to see Rachel never went through an awkward phase. Oh, sure, Rachel’s fashion sense was always…well, unfortunate. That was the kindest way to put it. And granted she needed some grooming now and then, like, those eyebrows when she was twelve, _geez_ , but God, Rachel was always just physically… _cute_. Even now, when most of McKinley tended to be disinclined to acknowledge her existence, nearly all would have to concede they wouldn’t kick her out of bed, either. At least, not until after they had sex.

So maybe all that meticulous attention to every detail of her childhood was what made Rachel a collector of the sentimental. Early on in their relationship, Quinn opened one of Rachel’s desk drawers to look for a rubber band and instead found what appeared to be a junk drawer. There were receipts, movie stubs, some weird looking leather bracelet, a pink breast cancer awareness bracelet, guitar picks, some mix CDs in their jewel cases. There was so much crap in there that Quinn became exasperated, shut the drawer and looked elsewhere.

It was only a few weeks after Cindy Wallace left to go back to Berkeley, but it was _months_ after Quinn first discovered that drawer, that Quinn was looking for an extra pen and she opened the drawer again, forgetting what a disaster it was, and saw things she recognized. She saw movie stubs from films that she’d seen with Rachel, a few mix CDs she’d made for Rachel (embarrassingly enough, she’d drawn her own cover art, because she’d been unable to squelch the compulsion), and notes she’d written in class to Rachel, refolded back along the original crease lines. It was then Quinn realized the drawer represented people Rachel dated. She dug through the drawer, feeling a twinge of hurt every time she found something that represented her, thrown haphazardly amongst all the other crap.

She found notes Cindy had written Rachel in class while they’d dated, a couple of postcards Cindy had sent Rachel from Berkeley, numerous letters of apology from Rachel’s ex-boyfriend, one of which Quinn couldn’t resist reading. “I’m sorry,” he wrote in closing. “It won’t happen again. I say it all the time, but I mean it this time. It won’t happen again.” His handwriting was in neat script, but he closed the letter simply with the first initial of his first name, one careless scrawl, just a big cursive ‘J’, all fancy with loops. It made Quinn want to punch him in the face.

“What is all this shit?” Quinn demanded when Rachel returned from the kitchen with a couple glasses of juice.

“My stuff.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You kept all this stuff from them?” she demanded. “And you just throw in stuff that I gave you-- stuff that we did together with all the shit from them?”

It hurt her feelings. She knew she could be kinder to Rachel, but she still thought she was probably better to Rachel than Rachel’s exes. And since they were _still_ dating, she thought the things she’d given Rachel deserved better treatment than _this_.

Rachel looked at her for a moment in silence. “This thing with you doesn’t feel all that different from what I had with them,” she said carefully, holding her hand up when she saw the way Quinn’s mouth dropped open in outrage. “So I’m not treating it any differently. The ball’s in your court, Quinn.”

Quinn left without saying anything.

\--

Quinn approached Rachel the next morning before their first class.

Quinn put her hand on Rachel’s back and felt Rachel’s back stiffen and tense.

“Sorry,” Quinn said quietly.

Rachel looked over her shoulder. “Hi,” she greeted, but she turned back to put books into her locker.

Quinn leaned in close. “I want to be different,” she whispered softly. “Don’t lump me in with _them_. Please.”

Rachel didn’t turn around. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay,” Quinn said, relieved. She went on to her class, leaving Rachel at her locker.

The next time Quinn went to Rachel’s she saw all the stuff that she’d given to Rachel was taken out of that drawer and placed around the room. It pleased her. Immensely.

Rachel smiled at her shyly. “I’m trying,” she said quietly. “Will you try, too?”

Quinn swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

\--

It was easier said than done.

It was just so damn easy to be mean to Rachel. Rachel never said anything, never confronted her about it, and didn’t even punish her with passive-aggressive comments or behavior. She could be cancer-inducing sweet to Rachel, or she could be heart-crushingly mean, and Rachel still treated her the same way. Yeah, it made her feel guilty every time she said something hurtful, but she couldn’t help herself. It was a compulsion and she had to obey. And she was resentful, because Rachel said she’d try too, and part of trying was _talking_ about that sort of thing, and Rachel never did. Rachel didn’t try or change, so Quinn didn’t see why she should, either.

\--

She found a dirty text message on Rachel’s phone from Cindy. Rachel was in the bathroom when the text came in and since it was an iPhone, Quinn could read it, even though it really hadn’t been her intention to snoop. But once she saw it, she just _had_ to look through Rachel’s phone. There were a few other texts from Cindy, though all of those were benign. She read the text messages Rachel sent Cindy, and all of them were sweetly encouraging, but again, they were benign. Rachel wished Cindy well on an exam, sympathized with how hard a paper was, that sort of thing. There was nothing that she should have gotten angry with, but Quinn couldn’t help but wonder if this was the first dirty text message Cindy had sent Rachel. It was a mixture of dirty and benign: ‘When I touch me, I still think of you. Will you start thinking of me again, too?’ it read.

Quinn looked through the rest of Rachel’s text messages. There were texts with Tina, some from her, some from Puck and many with Finn. But there was a whole series with Rachel’s ex, and he was still labeled as “Fantastic J,” that nauseatingly ridiculous nickname Rachel had for him just because they had a shared love for the _Fantastic Mr. Fox_ movie. There were text messages from a _year_ ago with him, and then there was a lull that lasted months and then they started up again. The iPhone’s design which made text messages look like a “conversation” allowed Quinn to pinpoint exactly when they started talking again (a text from him--“I miss you. Let’s go back to the start” months ago, when she first started dating Rachel) and they were still exchanging text messages even the day before. For whatever reason, Rachel kept all the text messages from him, even the ones that were just ‘K.’ His texts were _not_ innocuous, but all of Rachel’s were. It was a small comfort, and Quinn felt rage and jealousy bubble up all over again.

“Why are you looking through my phone?” Rachel asked quietly, when she came back into her bedroom from using the bathroom.

Quinn looked up and scowled. “Why are you still talking to everyone you’ve ever slept with?”

\--

The fight was a bad one-- definitely the worst she’d ever had with Rachel, but only because they’d never fought before. They argued over things like whose turn it was to pick the restaurant or what movie to see or the merits of one Hepburn over another, but they’d never fought before. They had a lot of opportunities, that was for sure, but Rachel never picked a fight, even when she would have fully been in her right.

However, it might have been the worst fight Quinn ever had with anyone, period.

She wasn’t sure how it escalated. But it was terrible, and Quinn found herself wishing she could just reverse time. She wished she could take back all her accusations and the way she talked to Rachel.

She said mean, awful things to Rachel, things she didn’t mean, but she said anyway because she knew how much it would hurt. And at first, Rachel was hurt. But then she was angry, and Quinn learned there was only so far Rachel could be pushed before she snapped. After all, people pushed Rachel around all the time-- she was bullied and Slushied, but she never tried to get back at anyone, never treated people as crappy as they treated her, so _of course_ , Rachel had her breaking point. And Rachel was scary when she was angry. If volcanic eruptions could be likened to angry outbursts, then Rachel was fucking Mt. Vesuvius in 79 AD when she was angry, all cataclysmic and awful and Quinn was the towns of Pompeii and Herculaneum.

“I never did anything wrong!” Rachel shouted. “I never did anything to make you think I would cheat on you.” She glared at Quinn. “If anything, _I_ should be the one to worry about that!”

It was a low blow.

“Screw you,” Quinn said frankly. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”

If Rachel couldn’t understand why it was wrong for her to text and talk with people she’d once dated, Quinn wasn’t going to spend the energy on telling her. They may not have been exclusive, but Quinn didn’t see how that mattered.

\--

They didn’t talk for a month, not even in Glee.

\--

It was a Friday night that Santana, Brittany and Quinn decided they’d go out together. They went to Dahlia’s and Quinn nearly burst into tears at the sight of Rachel and her ex-boyfriend sitting at a booth in the corner. Rachel looked over at them and smiled hesitantly, giving a tiny awkward wave.

Quinn glared at her and Santana glared, too, in a show of solidarity. Brittany smiled and waved. Rachel smiled and waved back until Santana put her hand on Brittany’s and pulled it down. Santana glared even harder at Rachel and Rachel blushed and looked away.

“You are so much cuter than he is,” Santana said reassuringly. People thought Santana was a bitch, and she was for the most part. But she could also be a really good friend, at least, when Santana could muster up a sense of sympathy and empathy.

“He’s drunk,” Brittany noted, glancing at Rachel and her dinner date.

Santana and Quinn looked at her skeptically. “Why would you say that?” Quinn asked.

“Because his Coke is way too light and he keeps putting his Coke under the table so he can pour stuff from his flask into it.” Brittany pointed. “He’s doing it now.”

Quinn and Santana glanced at him and sure enough, that’s exactly what he was doing. He finished his drink, set some money down on the table and then stood up, holding his hand out to Rachel. Rachel looked up at him, and she clearly asked him a question. He grinned at her, and Rachel grinned back. She took his hand and he pulled her up and put his arm around her as they left.

Quinn watched as he walked uncertainly, and bit her lip in concern. It seemed like Rachel was holding him up.

“Let’s go,” Quinn said, “The movie will start soon.”

“But we have thirty minutes, and the theatre is next door.” Santana protested.

“Still,” Quinn said.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Just admit you’re stalking Rachel,” she muttered. But she got up. “Come on,” Santana said. “Let’s make sure she’s not stupid enough to let him drive.”

They walked outside to see Rachel clearly agitated, trying to take away his keys. He was holding his keys out of her reach. He clearly thought it was hilarious, but Rachel looked close to tears.

“Just let me drive!”

“You don’t know how to drive stick,” he said.

Santana chortled and Quinn elbowed her in the ribs.

“Rachel,” Brittany called out. “Come watch a movie with us.”

Rachel glanced over at them and shook her head.

Quinn watched them argue for a few more minutes-- he was loud and increasingly belligerent, and Rachel was quietly pleading with him. Finally, he seemed to get tired of arguing because he just grabbed Rachel by the arm, and started pulling.

Quinn bit her lip and ran over to them.

“Rachel,” she said breathlessly. “Don’t go. We know he’s drunk. Don’t be stupid. Come watch the movie with us.”

“I’m not drunk,” he denied, flushing angrily.

Rachel gave Quinn a small smile. “It’ll be okay,” she said, her smile tight. “We’ve been fine before. He’s drank _way_ more and been okay.”

“Rachel,” Quinn said, taking her by the hand. “You’re an idiot if you go.”

Rachel pulled her hand away. “He’s my friend,” she said almost apologetically. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

He grinned at her and she smiled back.

Quinn was so frustrated she wanted to scream. What was it about falling in love with boys like him that made otherwise level-headed girls like Rachel act so stupidly? Quinn leaned in close. “Well, I don’t want anything to happen to _you_ ,” she hissed.

“Quinn, I don’t want anything to happen to me, either,” she said joked.

Quinn glared at her. “That’s not funny.”

Rachel swallowed hard. “I know. But I have to go with him. I just need to make sure he gets home safe. I promise, I’ll call you later.”

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hand again. “Don’t go,” she begged softly. “Please. Come with us. You guys already broke up, come with me. You guys are done. Come with me. It’s a better choice.”

Rachel smiled at her reassuringly. “I do choose you,” she said softly. “It’ll be okay,” she promised. “But I have to make sure he gets home okay. He’s my friend. I’ll text you when I get home.”

Rachel left with him.

“Fuck,” Santana whispered. “I didn’t think she’d actually go with him. She’s _way_ stupider than I thought,” Santana said when Quinn rejoined Santana and Brittany.

They tried to follow him, but he was gone.

\--

Rachel was fine, of course, because this was real life and not some after-school special.

“He was just buzzed,” Rachel explained, sounding breezy and light-hearted when Quinn called her in response to the text that Rachel sent her which read simply, “I’m home. Goodnight.”

Rachel listened quietly to Quinn reaming her out and then explained, simply, “he was just buzzed.”

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I ever heard you say, and I’ve heard you say a lot of stupid fucking things.”

Rachel chuckled softly. “Quinn.”

“Don’t you dare laugh,” Quinn said. “Don’t you _dare_. It’s not funny. I can’t believe you left with him when he was so _obviously_ drunk. Buzzed driving _is_ drunk driving, haven’t you seen the PSAs and the billboards?”

Rachel chuckled again and Quinn wished there were a way she could reach through the phone and kick Rachel in the ass.

“It wasn’t the first time,” Rachel said softly. “It was okay.”

“I should hit you,” Quinn threatened. “I should hit you for being so stupid.”

“I know. It was stupid,” Rachel acknowledged. “I deserve it.” She sighed. “Quinn. I promise you, I won’t do it again.”

“I think,” Quinn said slowly, “that’s the least you could do.”

“I promise,” Rachel said softly. “I’m not going to see him anymore.” She paused, her voice wavering slightly. “He’s not good for me.”

Quinn felt like a rock suddenly lodged itself in her throat. She swallowed. “Did something happen? Are you okay?” Rachel had always refused to talk about him. Quinn never truly viewed Cindy as a threat because Rachel talked about her. But Rachel steadfastly refused to talk him. “

Rachel laughed ruefully. “We’re both fine,” she said. “I just realized that everyone’s right about him.” She paused. “I’ve always known that,” she admitted softly. She took a deep breath. “Quinn, I don’t want us to be mad at each other anymore. Can we stop being mad at each other?”

“Okay,” Quinn said quietly.

“I’ve missed you,” Rachel said softly.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Quinn admitted in a whisper. Her voice became a little stronger. “But you’ve seemed busy,” she said insinuatingly.

She hated that she wasn’t first, because although it killed her to admit it, Rachel was first for her. If she had a choice between spending a night out with Rachel and spending a night out with anyone else, she’d want Rachel. Not that she always _chose_ Rachel, because Quinn wasn’t comfortable enough yet just to say what she wanted, and just because she wanted Rachel desperately didn’t mean she wanted Rachel to _know_ that she wanted her desperately.  
Rachel was quiet for a moment. “You didn’t seem like you wanted to see me anymore,” she said, her voice soft. “You said you didn’t care what I did, and you didn’t try to talk to me, so--”

“You didn’t try to talk to me either!”

“I was trying to move on,” Rachel said. “It’s what I do. If something doesn’t work out for me, I try to distract myself by moving on. But I don’t love him anymore, at least not like I used to. He’s my friend, so of course I love him. But I was only trying to keep myself busy because I was distracting myself from you. But I won’t see him or talk to him anymore, and you’re so much better to me than he ever was.”

“If that’s true, how badly did he treat you?” Quinn asked, only half-joking.

Rachel chuckled from low in her throat. Quinn found that to be endlessly appealing.

“It was good with you,” Rachel said softly, dodging the question entirely. “Not all good, but nothing ever is.”

“I should have been nicer to you,” Quinn said quietly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Rachel said. “But I wanted to figure that out on your own.” She cleared her throat. “I should have been better to you,” she mumbled, sighing. Quinn could picture her, head ducked down so her hair was falling into her face and biting her lower lip. “I knew it, too, but I wasn’t. I mean…” Rachel trailed off in frustration. “I knew you weren’t particularly happy with the way things were, and I knew what I could have done differently to make you happier. But I didn’t. It’s just that I couldn’t bring myself to do it, even though I knew you deserved better.”

“Let’s try this again,” Quinn said. “Let’s start over. It was good more often than it was bad, right?”

“Yeah,” Rachel breathed. “It was.” She swallowed audibly. “Okay,” she whispered “Let’s try again.”  
\--

There was a CD left in her locker on Monday morning. It was just a plain CD in a jewel case, with a piece of white paper with a heart clearly drawn by Rachel and filled in with red color pencil, tucked into the case. She couldn’t help but think that heart was the cutest thing she’d ever seen. Even cuter than like, babies or baby animals or whatever. God, she was pathetic. There was a Post-It on top of the case.

It read simply.

‘Q,

I’m trying,

-R’

Quinn smiled and she tucked the CD into her bag. She used to jokingly accuse Rachel of being less into the relationship because every CD Rachel ever made for her was just tucked into a jewel case, no cover art, and handed over without ceremony, whereas she spent a lot of time drawing on her own cover art.

 

 

“I just don’t have the talent you have for drawing,” Rachel would always say in her own defense. “I can barely draw a decent flower.”

“Yeah whatever,” Quinn would always huff in response, worried she was more into Rachel than Rachel was into her.

Rachel came over after school while Quinn was listening to Rachel’s CD for the fourth time. Rachel left campus early that day for a dentist appointment and Quinn was happy to see her.

“Hey,” Quinn greeted with a smile. “How was the dentist?”

Rachel looked suitably glum for being post-dental visit. “I have to get my wisdom teeth out.”

Quinn winced sympathetically. “Does your mouth hurt now?”

“No,” Rachel said. She smiled at Quinn and flopped onto Quinn’s bed. “I love this song,” she commented in a pleased hum.

“I should hope so,” Quinn said. “This was your mix CD.” She threw herself on the bed next to Rachel.

Rachel grinned. “I’m glad you’re listening to it.”

“I like it,” Quinn said quietly. “I’ll always think of you now when I hear these songs”.

“You’re sweet,” Rachel murmured. She touched Quinn’s cheek and kissed her.

Quinn kissed her back. She peered into Rachel’s eyes once they pulled away for air. “Are you just passing the time with me until your next boyfriend?” she asked quietly. “I mean, what are we really doing?”

“We’re starting over, Quinn. I’m with you,” Rachel said quietly. “You’re the one I want ”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Rachel assured.

“I wanted to be nicer to you,” Quinn admitted softly. “But I was so sure you wanted to be with him instead of me. Or maybe with Cindy. I thought maybe you were just passing the time with me until your next boyfriend or girlfriend. Because…” Quinn’s voice trembled slightly. “You made it seem like this was an experiment. Like you were just doing me a favor or something to help me figure this out.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said sincerely. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“It kind of worked though,” Quinn said quietly. “Because you did…unconfuse me.”

“You unconfused me, too,” Rachel said softly. She cleared her throat. “Quinn, listen,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for not treating you better. It just that I felt out of control. First I dated Cindy, and everything was so new. And things with her went _way_ faster than I wanted it to. Then I met him things went _way_ faster than I wanted with him, too, and I was acting in ways with both of them I didn’t want to, I was doing things I didn’t want to, and I just felt like I wasn’t me anymore. Then there was _you_ and you were so confused and I was confused and then I asked you out and I kept wondering why I did that because I wasn’t _ready_ for anything, but then you weren’t either and I was relieved. And I really like you, but it was just…it was a lot to take in, and I didn’t handle it well.”

“I wouldn’t have pushed you into anything,” Quinn whispered. “I’m not exactly rushing into anything, either. I wasn’t just curious about…” Quinn blushed. “Sex,” she said softly. “I was just curious in general. And _you_ were the one who asked _me_ out. What the hell did I know? When you asked me out, I thought we were figuring things out together, because that’s what you said. But I guess I kind of thought you would take the lead and I’d take my cues from you. But you weren’t giving me any. “

“I know,” Rachel said, ducking her head. “I’m sorry. But I didn’t know what I was doing either. I was never in that position before. I always just did what they wanted, and I just didn’t want to feel so stupid this time. And I know I wasn’t as nice to you as I was to them, I wasn’t trying to make you happy the way I tried to make them happy and you didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t your fault I was too weak to stand up to them. I’m really sorry I let that get in the way of treating you right.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn said quietly.

“But I want to be with you. I’m sorry I was so busy trying to stay their friend and didn’t spend enough time trying to stay yours. I‘ve really thought about it, and _of course_ you wouldn’t want to be nice to me when I wasn’t nice to you. It’s not your fault that it didn’t go well, but I _promise_ , this time around, it’s going to be different.”

Quinn swallowed back the lump in her throat. “You were nice to me-- you were a lot nicer to me than I was to you, but you were just different from how I thought you would be. Maybe if I’d been nicer to you, you would have been better to me,” she said softly. “A chicken and egg thing or whatever. Because you _were_ nice to me. It’s just, I always got the sense you weren’t that into it, that you were just doing it as a favor to me or something. Any time anything even remotely sexy came up, you were changing the subject. You really didn’t seem that into me, you were always so distracted. You kept MySpacing with her and texting with him. You were still hanging out with him! And I was _jealous_ , okay? I was jealous. But you kept saying you were just friends and I felt like an _idiot_ for being jealous. But I resented it because I hated being so jealous, and I know it wasn’t your fault because I didn’t tell you I was jealous. And I’m sorry I wasn’t nicer to you because you’ve _always_ been nice to me, even before we started dating, even before we started being friends. But I hated how I was more into you than you were into me, and I was just really scared you’d go back to him or like, you’d decide you’d want to be with her, long-distance. And then I would be alone, because the only thing I really know for sure now is that I do like girls better than I like guys, but I really like _you_. And it was just…it was way too hard for me to be nice to you when you didn’t seem to like me anywhere near as much as I liked you.”

Rachel was quiet for a long time. She stared at Quinn, looking flummoxed and uncertain. “We,” Rachel finally declared, “are stupid.”

Quinn snorted. “Yeah.”

Rachel reached for one of Quinn’s hands and threaded their fingers together. “We aren’t so different, you know.”

“No, we’re not,” Quinn agreed.

“I can be good to you,” Rachel said plaintively. “I _want_ to be good to you. You and I can figure this out, Quinn. We’re both smarter than the average person, so we should be able to leverage that into making this work.”

Quinn chortled. “You’re such a weirdo,” she said affectionately.

Rachel squeezed her hand. “It’s just…” she faltered. “I have a lot invested in this,” she admitted quietly. “I always did. I know it would have been a lot easier if I gave any indication of that, but I really want this to work.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “I want it to work, too” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “We can do this,” she said firmly. “I mean, if those weirdoes with the nineteen kids can make it work, you and I can, right?”

Rachel shuddered. “I don’t want nineteen kids, I’m being upfront about that right now.”

Quinn made a face and held up a hand. “Preaching to the choir.”

Rachel grinned. She kissed Quinn’s cheek. “I’m going to go,” she said softly. “We should let all this marinate.” She gently tugged her hand away, but Quinn held on.

“I know it’s only Monday,” Quinn said. “But I thought I should ask about your plans for Friday.”

Rachel gave her a lopsided grin. “It’s date night.”

“So that means?”

“It means I’m yours for the night,” Rachel assured. “All my Fridays can be yours.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, thinking about some of their most disastrous Fridays that they spent apart. “Would you care to put that in writing?”

Rachel chuckled. She took her index finger and crossed it over her own heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Quinn ducked her head. “Well, you don’t have to go to such extremes.”

Rachel laughed and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Quinn’s lips. “I should go.”

\--

Quinn woke up the next day, feeling new. She knew what it was like to break-up with someone, and have someone leave her. She knew how these things felt when she broke up with Finn, when she was cast aside by her parents, when she tumbled down the popularity pyramid. She knew the sting of waking up and not having a parent greet her at breakfast, or arrive at school and not have a sweetly doting boyfriend greet her at her locker. She knew what it felt like to walk through the halls and not have anyone talk to her, but talk _about_ her. She knew what it felt like to be told by a parent to get out, and she knew how it felt like to ask for just a minute to put on her shoes. She knew what it felt like to bring too much lunch simply out of habit because she was used to sharing it with Finn and then having to throw it away because he hated her. She knew what it felt like to feel helpless, alone and scared.

These were things she didn’t know:

She didn’t know what it felt like to wake up because of a text message from the girl she was dating, cheerfully telling her that she would see her in an hour and that she would bring a non-fat cappuccino just the way Quinn liked it. She didn’t know what it felt like to have someone slip next to her in the hallway at school when she felt her loneliest and whisper, “fuck them, they _wish_ they were you,” and Rachel _believed_ this was true. She didn’t know what it felt like to have someone reassure her that she was beautiful, smart, or kind at the precise moment she felt she was ugly, stupid and mean. She didn’t know what it felt like to have someone change out an order of regular fries for sweet potato fries with her tuna sandwich just because Quinn liked sweet potato fries but her order didn’t come with fries because she got a Greek salad-- and Rachel was allergic to sweet potato, to boot.

She didn’t know what those things felt like, but she _learned_.

\--

It was an ordinary Saturday night. There was nothing particularly notable about it, except the weather was warmer and everyone’s spirits seemed to have picked up. Quinn had learned by then that Rachel’s favorite season was spring, because she hated Christmas and Hanukkah time (rejection from her fathers’ families always put a damper on the holidays) and she associated the entire winter season with those holidays. She hated summer because it was too hot and she disliked autumn because she had to go back to school. But spring? Who hated spring?

They’d been kissing for what seemed like hours and Rachel slipped her hand under Quinn’s shirt. She unhooked Quinn’s bra and touched Quinn’s bare breast.

“Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to keep asking, I told you that,” Quinn grunted.

“Just making sure.”  
  
“Fuck,” Quinn moaned as one of Rachel’s thumbs grazed Quinn’s nipple.

“You like that, huh?” Rachel grinned.

“Don’t get cocky.”

Rachel laughed and then groaned and shuddered as Quinn began suckling at her neck. “Fuck.”

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Quinn teased.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“I don’t have a mother,” Rachel breathed. “And _fuck_ will you stop bringing parental figures up? Jesus.”

“Lord’s name in vain,” Quinn reminded.

“He’s your Savior, not mine,” Rachel pointed out.

“Sacrilege!” Quinn exclaimed.

Rachel grinned and gripped Quinn’s hair from the back. She pulled, and it was not particularly gentle. “I’ve been bad. Do you want to make it hurt?”

Quinn swallowed hard at the insinuation.

Rachel’s grin faded and she pulled away immediately, putting space between them. “I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to pressure you into anything,” she said, scrambling for an explanation. “I was just--”

Quinn swallowed again. She pulled Rachel close. She buried her face into Rachel’s shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathed. “I need to do this,” she panted. She licked her dry lips. “Fuck,” she repeated. She brushed her lips close to Rachel’s ear. “I’m wet,” she said, blushing a deep scarlet. “If you aren’t ready, then you really need to take me home.”

Rachel swallowed hard. She pushed her hand inside the back of Quinn’s jeans, past her underwear and touched Quinn’s bare butt. She drew Quinn even closer. “C’mere.”

Quinn grinned, and Rachel grinned back.

End.


	3. Enter Prince Charming part 1

**Title:** Enter Prince Charming  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R just to be safe for some sexual references  
**Length:** 14,000 [a+b]  
**Spoilers:** Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth.  
**Summary:** Follow-up to ‘Fault’ and ‘Woke Up New’ This is more of a Rachel POV. I know it's too long, but blame my one and half year old daughter, the insomniac.

* * *

 

Rachel’s attraction to Quinn happened slowly, over time. One day, Quinn was her rival for Finn’s affections and another day, she was a friend. Quinn as a friend was not so different from Quinn as a rival. Quinn softened towards her, but the blonde could still be unaccountably bitchy, which was okay with Rachel because she’d seen the blonde be bitchy to everyone, even people she professed to like or even love. Still, they were friends, and though they sniped at each other regularly, a lot of the malice was gone.

When Quinn was so nonchalant and supportive after Rachel’s revelation about a secret girlfriend, Rachel’s opinion toward Quinn changed for the better. She thought Quinn would be revolted, would start treating her worse or something. But instead, Quinn was one of the few gleeks who didn’t treat her any differently once they knew. Life just went on, and Rachel appreciated it.

But she also appreciated that the gleeks could keep a secret, even if they didn’t like her much. It felt like a huge burden had been lifted, because she’d kept it a secret from everyone, even her dads who would have been understanding and sweet, but would have gone into proud gay dads mode, and she didn’t want that. She didn’t want attention, she wanted understanding and _quiet_ acceptance. And she didn’t want to be treated nicer if that was the only reason.

When Rachel was around Quinn, she felt most like herself, because although everyone was nice and supportive when she admitted she was dating a girl, they _changed_. They were nicer and she should have been glad, but she didn’t want people to be nice just because she was dating a girl. Even _Santana_ was nicer, apparently because they were both in the same gay dinghy. But Quinn treated her the same. Quinn was never particularly nice to her, so Rachel found that consistency to be reassuring. It was honest, and Rachel appreciated honesty.

Rachel really didn’t start being attracted to Quinn until after they started dating. There was a huge difference between being attracted to someone and simply finding them attractive and she never looked at Quinn in that way until she realized that Quinn was confused, too. So they started dating and she realized there was so much more to Quinn than just bitchy former Cheerio-- she was smart, insightful, sarcastic and funny; Rachel liked that. Even though Quinn had a huge ego, she also had such fragile self-esteem. She was so much more complex than Rachel had ever thought, so much more than Rachel had ever given her credit for and it kept her…interested.

It wasn’t this huge _wow_ , it wasn’t like being hit in the head, she didn’t hear any bells or anything like that. It was more like…when she reread her favorite book, _Peter Pan, or the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up_ (her favorite because she was motherless, too) for the countless time and discovered something new, or rediscovered something she’d forgotten. Quinn would say or do something and it was like Rachel could see Quinn for the first time. And sometimes she was dazzled and enthralled by that. No matter how mean or bitchy Quinn was to her, once Rachel had discovered there was more to Quinn than that, Rachel kept going back for more. But whatever it was between them, it brewed slowly.

On the other hand, Rachel still remembered the first sting of flustered attraction when she started to secretly date Cindy Wallace. It’d been so exciting. All that build up, all that tension and mutual attraction. The onset of the infatuation was sudden, and completely consuming.

Cindy had been the one to approach her. Rachel had been minding her own business picking up assigned reading books at Borders when she decided to look for new books to read. She was skimming through a book whilst listening to her iPod and sitting on the floor in a position her fathers deemed “the most awkward position ever,” but she thought was comfortable. (This position came about after years of inadvertently flashing people while in skirts. She was pulled aside by a kindly teacher in second grade who took pity on her motherlessness to tell her to wear a pair of shorts under her skirt or sit with her legs together or else everyone would see her underpants.) Her fathers were detail-oriented, but that particular detail escaped their attention.

She felt a tap on her foot. It was Cindy hovering above her.

She apologized, assuming she was blocking an area on the shelf Cindy needed. She scrambled up and _swore_ she saw Cindy look up her skirt. Cindy sat down, which totally confused Rachel. She looked down at Cindy quizzically.

“Rachel, right?” Cindy asked, motioning for Rachel to sit down.

Rachel looked at her warily, but sat. “Yes.”

“Cindy.”

“I know.”

And then Cindy was talking, blushing and leaning in close, rambling on about one of Rachel’s MySpace videos and commenting on how Rachel didn’t change the gender pronouns in the song. Rachel had been instantly suspicious. She loved “Into My Arms”, so she sang a cover and she always felt it was a little disingenuous and kind of a cop-out to change the gender pronouns in songs if one was covering a song by an opposite-gendered singer. But she smelled a set-up and didn’t like it. She was already dealing with the fact she was noticing things about girls that she didn’t used to, and it made her paranoid to think someone had caught onto her.

“No, I feel it diminishes the integrity of the song.” She stood. “I should go,” she said politely.

“I liked it,” Cindy called out after her, her voice soft.

Cindy approached her a few more times, and Rachel could not understand it. Cindy always approached her when they were alone, but she was also kind of… _persistent_ and it was weird. Rachel was paranoid and she wondered if she now had “Questioning my Sexuality” emblazoned on her forehead, because Cindy said a lot of very _pointed_ comments.

It’s not that Rachel was embarrassed or ashamed to question her sexuality-- she thought it was normal. It was just that it was deeply _personal_ and she was trying to figure it out for herself. Most people already assumed she was gay anyway because of her fathers. That didn’t bother her, but she needed people just to stay out her face while she figured things for herself.

Cindy’s persistence started to wear Rachel out, and she finally snapped. She really couldn’t even remember what she said-- probably some variation of “what do you _want_?” She’d been baffled to see a look of genuinely wounded surprise cross Cindy’s features, which prompted Rachel to issue an immediate apology.

That was when Rachel suspected Cindy was doing to her what she herself was trying to do with the other girls in the school-- feel her out for any _hint_ of gayness. So Cindy continued to seek out her, Rachel continued to respond and then soon, Cindy asked her out and she said yes.

“Why did you talk to me?” Rachel asked Cindy one day, when they’d been dating a while.

Cindy was not questioning her sexuality-- she was deeply gay. But there was a dearth of openly gay girls in Lima, and Cindy’s family was dismayingly homophobic. She wasn’t Cindy’s first, but they’d learned from each other. And one thing Rachel learned was that she may not have been fully gay, but she wasn’t fully straight either. It wasn’t a matter of falling in love someone who happened to be a girl. She wasn’t in love with Cindy, but she still enjoyed most of the things they did together-- which was a pretty big indicator of GAY.

Cindy blushed. “I thought you were pretty, I always have. I watched your MySpace videos. Then I saw the one you did of ‘Into My Arms’ and when you didn’t change the pronouns, I thought maybe you and I had a lot in common.”

Rachel nodded. “Oh.”

“And I thought if I was wrong, you weren’t the kind of person who’d rat me out.”

Rachel beamed at her. “ _Oh._.”

(Even when she got older and got compliments, exuberantly positive superlative reviews that remained one of the most gratifying endorsements of her character and who she was as a person)

The relationship got really intense, really fast. Not so much in terms of feelings, at least, not for Rachel. But it did get really intense in terms of what they did together. It moved faster than she wanted. Not that she was unwilling, just that it moved faster than she was ready for.

Rachel didn’t feel forced, it was just things happened even when she didn’t want it to, and frequently without her permission. She never said “stop” or “no,” but she really didn’t feel like she had that option, either. Cindy was a little older, a little more experienced and so Rachel just let Cindy do what she wanted. She thought about saying something sometimes, like, “I don’t want to do this” or “not yet,” or whatever, but she kind of wanted it at the same time, too, and she didn’t want to screw things up, because she didn’t see any other women lining up to want to be with her. She didn’t want to lose a chance with Cindy over something like sex because a part of her felt obliged to do it, even when she didn’t want it, even when what Cindy did to her actually _hurt_ and she wanted to plead with Cindy to stop. She just couldn’t say anything. But Cindy was nice a lot of the other times, so Rachel thought it was a small price to pay.

The relationship didn’t work out, and despite the fact she wasn’t in love, it’d still been crushing.

As nice and sweet as Cindy could be, it was also clear Cindy was resentful and angry about being gay. Rachel wasn’t sure what she was yet, but she didn’t want to be resentful and angry about it. Cindy took a lot of her anger out on Rachel, and Rachel tried to be understanding, because she knew Cindy’s life was a lot harder than hers. She had the most supportive parents on the planet. Cindy’s parents were assholes.

But Cindy could be so _mean_ to her, and people were mean enough to her that she really couldn’t stand having someone who claimed to love her, be mean to her, too. Cindy was mean in ways that were both small and big, but always cutting. For every sweet remark, there was a demeaning, dismissive one, too. It felt awful, but Rachel wasn’t all that surprised, either.

After all, she didn’t have many friends. Noah and Finn were her two closest friends, and she became pretty friendly with Tina as time went on. But she didn’t delude herself into believing people liked her. Glee only tolerated her for her talent, even if they were bonded through grudging solidarity. So it didn’t seem all that surprising Cindy didn’t seem to particularly value her either. She accepted it, reveled in the sweet moments with Cindy, and went about her life.

And then one day, it was over.

Cindy came by the house and sat down on the bed, arms wrapped around herself. “I love you, but I’m lying to my parents and to my friends to date you. I love you, but I love my life more and it’s getting harder to cover this up. It’s too hard to keep doing this. This isn’t what I want, but I can’t do it anymore.”

Rachel nodded slightly. “Okay.”

It was over-- at least in an official capacity. Cindy wanted to stay friends, and they did.

But Cindy also kept doing things like pulling her into the janitor’s closet after school to make out. Or Cindy would come over to hang out for a while, and then inevitably, start fucking her and Rachel didn’t want to, but she let Cindy do it anyway. Rachel lost another sliver of self-respect and she’d already lost an immense amount of self-respect for being unable to speak up for herself while they were dating. After a while, she couldn’t look in the mirror without wanting to spit at her own reflection. It got so hard to like herself.

But Cindy was the first person who really seemed to listen to Rachel, who didn’t seem to just tune her out. And because Cindy was the first girl Rachel was ever with, and helped Rachel figure certain things out, Rachel was unable to resent her. Even after they broke up, Rachel felt the need to be loyal to Cindy. If Cindy hadn’t yelled at her in the parking lot within earshot of Quinn, Rachel would have taken their secret to her grave. She loved Cindy as a friend, and she felt loyal to her despite the fact she felt like Cindy had never really loved her at all. She wasn’t going to lie to herself-- she hadn’t been in love with Cindy, but the break-up upset her. It took a while to get over it. In fact, she still wasn’t over it, when she met someone else.

In truth, she’d met him before she officially met Cindy. He’d been there in the background since New Directions and Vocal Adrenaline went up against each other in their sophomore year. They’d hit it off, and there was a mutual admiration society between them along with a little flirtation. But then she and Noah gave it another go, and after that, there was Cindy. But once things with Cindy were over, the talented but cocky and slightly dorky boy diva from Vocal Adrenaline seemed _perfect_.  
  
He was supposed to be a rebound relationship, but it didn’t work out that way.

She fell in love and fell _hard_. She fell desperately, helplessly, painfully in love. For a while, he was the most important person in her life-- he even became more important than her parents. The way he saw her became the most important thing in the world.

The relationship completely wrecked her. It wasn’t that he treated her terribly-- he was actually pretty nice to her most of the time. Unlike Cindy, he never made any overtly disparaging comments about her. He wasn’t a bad guy. He was actually a really good person, but the relationship had still wrecked her.

He always complimented her on her voice, and on the rare occasion she was off key, he told her so. It meant a lot to her because he wasn’t just saying what she wanted to hear, and so she valued his opinion. He was so encouraging, and had so much faith in her. It felt so good to have someone so talented have that kind of faith in her, especially because he was really arrogant and tended not to recognize other people’s talents if they were less than his own-- and it was his opinion that very few people had talent that was equal or greater than his.

He did the usual relationship things--really listened to her, helped her with homework, wrote her love letters, bought her ‘just because’ gifts, called every day, which she normally would have found annoying and over-bearing, but she adored his attention. Anytime they passed a flower stand or shop, he’d buy her at least a single stem rose. He made mix CDs constantly-- songs he knew she liked, songs he _thought_ she’d like, songs which were special to them, and songs that simply reminded him of her. He asked for her opinion on things because he said he valued her input. He told her she was beautiful, and with him, she _felt_ beautiful. Being with him could feel so good, and he could be pretty good to her-- at least he wasn’t insulting her all the time. But their relationship was doomed to failure, despite her frantic and pathetic attempts to avoid its inevitable end. It took a while for her to realize it but he was bad for her.

He cheated on her all the time, and he was unabashed and unashamed about it. He acted like he was an upstanding guy because he confessed his infidelities. He’d apologize and promise not to do it again, but she stopped believing him though she never stopped hoping he’d stop. He had a wandering eye, so even when they were together, she knew he was looking at other girls. He’d look at some girl and make a comment like “her breasts are nicer than yours, but your legs are better.” In a show of how pathetic she really became, she offered to have an open relationship. But he _wanted_ to be exclusive, and he pled for another chance, and she gave it to him.

She didn’t understand it because she let him have her whenever he wanted, even when she didn’t want to, so she didn’t understand why he would look somewhere else for something she would do for him even when she didn’t want to. It was just like with Cindy. Sometimes, they’d just be lying around, and then his weight was on her and she’d panic for a moment, until she told herself to stop being such a baby, because he was her _boyfriend_. There were so many times when she didn’t want to, but she didn’t say no. Even when he was too rough or did something she wasn’t expecting, or jus treated her like she was a sex doll, she didn’t protest. She felt more of her self-respect slip away, but she didn’t even care.

The drinking was another issue. It wasn’t so much that he was an alcoholic-- he only drank on the weekends, as far as she could see. It was the fact that he could get mean when he drank and he drove while intoxicated. Although he was never off-his-face drunk when he drove, he was definitely buzzed, and she couldn’t follow that inner voice telling her to stop being an idiot. She always got in the car, and she’d try to reason with him. “I’m scared, pull over and let me drive” she’d whine, but pretending it was a joke, even though she was scared. She’d said that the first time she rode in a car with him while he was buzzed, but he laughed and mocked her. So all the other times after that she pretended like she was joking when she said she was scared, like she was making fun of herself, but really, she hoped he’d just pull over and let her drive. Eventually, she just stopped saying anything and just hoped they’d make it home.

She was afraid of him a lot. He had some kind of undiagnosed mental health issue--because when he was in a good, happy mood, they had the best time, but when he was depressed, angry or just plain moody (and that was a lot), she was terrified of him. She was never sure if some innocent joke would make him laugh or cause him to snap at her in a rage. It got to the point that all he had to do was to look at her a certain way and she would give into whatever he wanted. She shut up and tried to stay out of his way. It was also why she never said no or tried to push him away when he pulled off her skirt without warning. Her fear of him kept her in line and it never got physical, because it never had to-- she cowed to whatever he wanted. Except once.

It was the one time when he got so drunk that she was scared. So she obeyed that small voice in her head, and called her dads. They’d always told her she could call them for a sober ride home, consequence free. It was the only time she needed it. They were at his house anyway, and Rachel didn’t think he’d mind because he wouldn’t have to drive her home. Her dad came to pick her up, and he didn’t seem all that angry, especially because she hadn’t been drinking.

“J,” Rachel said. “I’m going to go home with my dad. So you don’t have to drive me home.”

She left, but he followed her. She thought maybe he was just walking her out. She got in her dad’s car and rolled down her window to tell him she’d call him tomorrow, and he looked so angry, she drew back. He reached into the car and pulled her out of the car through the window, screaming at her. It was mortifying to be pulled out of the car and land on her knees on asphalt.

Her dad was horrified and _furious_. It was even more awful because she really thought Dad would yell at her on the ride home-- Dad was the yeller and Daddy was the softie. But he didn’t yell. He drove with his hands clenched around the steering wheel and the whole time he drove, he kept asking in this really soft voice if that was the first time something like that had ever happened. He just looked so worried that she wished he would just yell at her, because she’d feel better if he did. He was so _nice_ made her feel worse.

When they got home, her fathers sat her down. She was forbidden from seeing him again. But she defied her fathers and continued dating him in secret, feeling guilty the whole time for betraying her fathers’ trust, but consumed by her desire to just date her boyfriend.

Until he dumped her. He found someone new, someone better. Someone he preferred to her.

It was shattering. She couldn’t show it-- after all, her fathers thought she was already broken up with him, and she wasn’t going to give the people at school the satisfaction of seeing her defeated and depressed. But it was the kind of break-up where she felt really raw, like she had no skin and everything just _hurt_ a little more. Suddenly, other people’s insults-- people who didn’t even _matter_ to her, actually started to hurt. Every harsh word, exasperated sigh, or eye roll just stung, and she knew she would feel better if only he would take her back. And she only barely resisted the urge to plead with him to take her back.

She blanked out on life. She was there, of course, but not present. She showed up to school, studied, went to Glee, did her homework, participated in her other extra-curricular activities, ate, showered, made MySpace videos-- but she kind of blanked out while doing them. She barely remembered anything about the couple months after he broke up with her-- just that she walked around, put a smile on her face, held her head up high but felt raw and exposed the whole time. The best part of her day was being able to go up to her room and be alone after dinner. The worst part of her day was waking up and realizing she had to go through the process all over again.

But it got easier, just as she knew it would, because even as she was going through with it, she knew that her feelings were incredibly cliché and not even remotely special.

She was starting to feel like herself again, but she was still a little blanked out, like she was viewing her life from the edges. Everything felt blunted.

And that’s when she started dating Quinn.

She knew it was wrong to start dating someone new, but she thought it would be okay, that she’d just be an experiment for Quinn and Quinn would maybe realize that she was straight after all, and they could both go on with their lives, no harm no foul.

It didn’t go like that though.  
\--

It’s not that Rachel regretted asking Quinn out that day when Quinn made fun of Rachel for thinking a girl on MySpace was appealing. (Okay, that Daisy chick really did look like a cartoon, but a hot one, like Jessica Rabbit or the Little Mermaid.) It was more that she felt like she was getting herself into something over which she had no control. The words just sort of rolled off her tongue before she was ready to say them.

She found herself without a road map, and knew she’d jumped into it too soon. She felt so raw, and Quinn could be so mean to her. Insults that Quinn used to hurl at her, like Man Hands used to just roll off, no big deal. But then it started to sting. It wasn’t Quinn’s fault, it was just kind of where Rachel was at the time. She just didn’t have the emotional fortitude anymore to take it, but she couldn’t say anything to Quinn about it. Her heart felt too close to the lining of her coat and so with Quinn, she kept trying to shove it further away.

As mean as Quinn could be, Rachel knew what she was doing to Quinn was cruel and possibly worse. She felt terrible about herself, because she knew, she could _see_ Quinn wasn’t happy, even if the blonde wasn’t saying anything about it. She could _see_ how confused and afraid Quinn was-- she’d seen those very emotions reflected in her mirror. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to bring Quinn the solace the blonde was obviously seeking out in her.

It wasn’t that she was mean to Quinn, she just kind of ignored her, even though they were dating and Rachel could _see_ that it hurt, that she’d disappointed Quinn. Quinn just seemed so lost sometimes, and Rachel knew Quinn was expecting her to take the lead, but Rachel just couldn’t. She was lost, too. They were floundering, and all the camaraderie and the charm was fading. It felt awful, but Rachel couldn’t stop herself from just sitting there and letting it happen.

She knew if she just asked Quinn _anything_ to indicate she cared about how Quinn felt, the blonde would feel better. And maybe if Quinn felt better, then Quinn would be a little nicer. But Rachel just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She cared, of course. She wasn’t so grossly insensitive or cruel that she didn’t care about how Quinn felt. It was just that she’d given up so much of her self-respect, pushed aside her own feelings, that she was disgusted with herself and she wanted to stop. So she didn’t do the sweet things she did for her exes, refused to be attentive even when she was perceptive, refused to be _good_ to Quinn. But that didn’t make her less disgusted with herself. She wasn’t proud of herself that she finally stopped debasing herself for someone else. She just got more disgusted with herself because she knew the way she treated Quinn was _wrong_ that she was punishing Quinn for something the blonde didn’t even do.

But she was just so _blank_. It touched her when Quinn seemed insecure or lost, but she couldn’t reach out. She couldn’t bring herself to actually show Quinn she cared.  
\--  
Their first date had been _really_ nice. It was a little awkward-- there was all this added anticipation and expectation. But it was still nice. Rachel wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed when she arrived at Quinn’s house, but she thought she’d play it by ear.

They hung out for a while at Quinn’s. They sat on the couch and watched a movie, just like they had on numerous other occasions. Except there was this _weight_ between them. They sat close, but not touching. Rachel knew Quinn expected her to make a move, but Quinn seemed so skittish and nervous, that Rachel just sat with her hands in her lap. When the movie ended, Rachel stood up, stretched and held her hand out to Quinn, smiling.

“Are you hungry?” Rachel asked. “There’s that new Mexican restaurant that opened up on Walnut. I’m curious about it.”

Quinn smiled back and reached for Rachel’s hand. “That sounds good.”

Rachel let go of Quinn’s hand and then rethought it. She reached for Quinn’s hand again and she held the blonde’s hand until they got to her car.

New restaurants in Lima tended to go one of two ways. Either curiosity packed the restaurant, or wariness caused people to wait until someone they knew gave it a vote of confidence. Las Dunas was suffering from the latter, which Rachel thought was a shame--the food was good. But it also meant the restaurant was nearly empty for the entire time they were there, and that was nice.

They talked, and at first, it was a little hesitant and awkward, but by the time they were finished with their meal, they were talking the way they did. They lingered for a while, but it was weird being the only patrons left in the restaurant. The bill was set down and they each reached for it.

“I’ll get it,” Quinn said.

“No,” Rachel said firmly. “Let me.”

“I’ll pay half.”

Rachel smiled. “Maybe next time,” she said, gently tugging the bill away from Quinn.

“Thanks,” Quinn said softly.

They settled the bill and lingered for a little longer but eventually left. Quinn didn’t want to go home quite yet, but there was really nowhere else they wanted to go.

“There’s Matt’s party,” Rachel suggested.

Quinn paused. “You want to go to Matt’s?”

“I don’t have a plan for now,” Rachel apologized “I thought you’d want me to take you home.”

“Maybe we can just drive around for a while,” Quinn said softly. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

Rachel smiled at her. “I don’t.”

They drove around for a while, chatting. They drove through the town multiple times, passing familiar landmarks. And soon, it was time for Quinn to go home.

Rachel dropped her off. “Goodnight,” Rachel said softly.

“Goodnight.”

They stared at one another for a long moment-- too long, because it felt awkward. Rachel thought Quinn was waiting for a goodnight kiss, but Rachel wasn’t sure if Quinn really wanted it, or if she was just anticipating it because tradition dictated it. She didn’t want to push Quinn into anything, didn’t want to make Quinn feel obliged to do anything before she was ready, because Rachel had been there so many times before and it felt awful. She knew how it felt to give in, even when you didn’t want to, and how much you just ended up loathing yourself because you couldn’t blame the other person, not when you didn’t say no. And if you let it happen the first time, it was like giving the other person a free pass to it over and over again. If you let it happen once, you could never take it back. Once it happened, people just assumed it was okay, every single time. And it wasn’t okay every single time. She didn’t want to do that to someone else.

So she just leaned forward and hugged Quinn as quickly as humanly possible. She didn’t even give Quinn a chance to return the hug. She just leaned forward, put her arms around Quinn, held her for like, a _millisecond_ and then pulled away, unable to meet Quinn’s eyes.

“I had a good time,” Rachel said, and she had, even with all the awkwardness. “Call me tomorrow. I mean, only if you want to,” she added.

Quinn gazed at her, looking uncertain. “Okay,” she said with a slight nod. She stayed for an extra beat and then opened the door. “Okay, well. Goodnight,” Quinn said. “Thanks for…everything.”

“Goodnight.”  
\--

Quinn called her the next day, and the blonde came over in the evening. Daddy was out of town in Seattle, and Dad was working, so Rachel had the house to herself. They ate leftovers from the fridge for dinner and then lounged around in Rachel’s room.

Rachel didn’t kiss Quinn that night and Quinn didn’t try to initiate anything either.  
\--

It took a few more dates, a few more times hanging out together for Rachel to work up the nerve. All she could remember were the times when all she wanted to do was hang out but it would turn into a full-on make-out session when she didn’t want to kiss, and then it would turn into sex that she really didn’t want.

She didn’t want to do that to Quinn. She knew if she kissed Quinn, the blonde wouldn’t say no, that the blonde wouldn’t refuse. But Rachel didn’t think Quinn would feel comfortable saying she wasn’t ready, because the whole reason they were dating was because Quinn was curious and admitting curiosity meant being curious about things like kissing and sex. But she didn’t want Quinn to think she was only in it for the physical, and she didn’t want Quinn to feel obliged to do _anything_. She wanted to be positive Quinn was okay with it and she couldn’t bring herself to _ask_ , because she thought that would inevitably lead into explaining and she didn’t want to explain. But she had no idea how to take the lead, and it was clear Quinn was expecting her to, and that was fair because Rachel was the one who’d actually dated a girl before.

Their first kiss happened three weeks after their first date. All the time in between, they were just hanging out but there was so much tension and anticipation between them. It was just… Rachel was so rattled, so unsure, so shaken. She was still so off balance, it was like she was submerged underwater and trying to claw her way up to the surface, except she was so disoriented she wasn’t sure if she was floating up or sinking down, so she didn’t know which way to go.

The first kiss was accidental. They were lounging around on the bed in Quinn’s room and Rachel decided it was time for her to go home, so she stood up and said goodbye. Quinn stood up as well, and Quinn hugged her. By this time, they were able to go back to hugging each other like they normally did, holding on for a couple of seconds before letting go-- unlike that first date. Rachel stood on her tiptoes to kiss Quinn’s cheek, but Quinn turned her head to ask a question and Rachel’s lips grazed Quinn’s. It was just a peck-- barely that, just a soft brush.

Quinn’s eyes were huge-- round and wide.

Rachel pulled away roughly and took a few steps back, misinterpreting Quinn’s initial shock for horror. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I…I didn’t mean to…I was trying to kiss your cheek, not--”

Quinn hesitantly stepped forward, narrowing the space between them. “It’s okay,” she said softly.

And then Rachel saw it-- something in Quinn’s eyes. It was just for a moment, and she really couldn’t describe it, even if she had to. But it was this _look_ , and there was this _expression_. And then Rachel just knew that it really was okay. She felt bolder, so she moved in closer, palmed Quinn’s cheek, stood up on tip-toes, and kissed her. Rachel felt Quinn’s hands in her hair and they kissed until Rachel was breathless so she had to pull away.

Quinn looked at her, looking a little stupefied. She was wide-eyed and gasping a little, which made Rachel feel immeasurably vindicated, because damn it, maybe she didn’t _always_ want to make out or _always_ want to have sex, but she was good at those things.

But still, Rachel could not squelch an undeniably crushing wave of self-doubt because she was quick to add, “was that okay? I wasn’t trying to force you into anything.”

Quinn’s cheeks were red. “I thought you lost interest,” she admitted. “I thought you just wanted to stay friends and that’s why you hadn’t tried to kiss me.”

Rachel didn’t want to get into it, but she wanted to be honest. “I was interested,” she blushed. “I just didn’t want to force you into anything before you were ready, and I wasn’t sure.”

Quinn chuckled. “I can’t imagine anyone forcing either of us into anything we didn’t want to do,” she said dryly. “And besides. I could take you.”

Rachel smiled crookedly and wondered, just briefly, if she could get away from Quinn if she really had to. “Yeah, maybe.”

Quinn gazed at her for a moment, and then Quinn kissed her again.  
\--

All they did was kiss. And sometimes, it was a little more frenzied, sometimes it was a little more leisurely. Sometimes, they kissed because they just couldn’t resist, and other times they kissed because they had nothing better to do. They always kept their clothes and while Rachel could feel things building up between them, she didn’t feel the pressure of the demand for sex, either. Sometimes, she wanted it, but she wasn’t sure if Quinn did. And other times, she didn’t want to, and she was glad Quinn wasn’t pushing the issue.

Every time they made out and it _didn’t_ lead to sex, Rachel felt herself falling for Quinn a little more. There were times in her life when Rachel wondered if all she really was to people was a breathing sex doll, but it wasn’t like that with Quinn. They had a pace, and it felt comfortable and even though she wasn’t putting out, Quinn was still there. Maybe Quinn could be mean to her, but at least Rachel started to feel like she had more to offer a person, that there was something likable about her that went beyond just sex.

‘This is good,’ Rachel thought after a particularly heated kiss with Quinn in which the blonde’s flushed face was warm to the touch and she was very obviously turned on, but didn’t push for something more. For just a brief moment, she felt some semblance of control. Until that is, Quinn kissed her again and Rachel knew that if this kept on, she would fall desperately, hopelessly, helplessly in love again. And the thought of falling in love again, losing that control, being unable to say no, being unable to speak up for herself, it was just too scary.

\--  
She kept screwing up. She didn’t screw up deliberately, but Rachel knew she screwed up. A lot.

Like when Cindy came home from Spring Break during her first year at Berkeley. She should have known how that would make Quinn feel, but she didn’t even consider it. It was just that she’d gotten used to Friday being their regular night together, and then Quinn wanted to spend that previous Friday with Santana and Brittany.

Quinn made it clear to Rachel that she wasn’t supposed to assume Quinn was a regular on Rachel’s calendar. And Rachel had been simultaneously embarrassed and horrified because she realized she was probably more into Quinn than Quinn was into her, and had actually let on about it. And she was horrified with herself for just assuming Quinn was hers for the night, which was a feeling she hated being subject to herself. And she’d been kind of hurt by how mean Quinn had been about wanting to spend time with Santana and Brittany, as though spending time with her were so awful, Quinn needed to specifically let her know that the blonde needed time _away_ from _her_ not just the blonde wanted some time with her friends. When she agreed to pick up Cindy, she was trying to just give Quinn space and also give herself some time to think, but of course, she screwed up that, too, because Quinn just got even angrier with her.

Cindy was a friend, and Rachel thought she owed it to Cindy to keep her commitment and she couldn’t back out by the time Quinn made her displeasure known. When Rachel picked Cindy up, Cindy greeted her happily with a huge hug. But when Cindy went to kiss her, Rachel turned her head to give Cindy her cheek. Cindy kissed her cheek and didn’t comment and everything seemed okay, but Rachel couldn’t help but think it was a bad idea.

“You look good,” Cindy commented as Rachel drove.  
\--

When Cindy commented on how tense she was, and then suggested they hit up the old karaoke bar they used to go to, the one they could sneak into because no one carded them as long as they didn’t order any alcoholic drinks, Rachel didn’t want to do it, but she answered, “Um, okay.”  
\--

Each time they’d gone to the bar together, men always bought them drinks and the bar didn’t seem to care as long as they didn’t buy the drinks themselves. Rachel didn’t drink much-- at most, she drank one or nursed two, and then switched to bottled water. She just liked to sing, even when it was only karaoke. When she and Cindy were dating, Rachel loved that Cindy liked that about her.

But that night, whatever anyone brought her, she drank, even when she didn’t like the taste. She was uncomfortable and she just wanted to relax. Cindy had been all over her all damn night, and while it wasn’t inappropriate, Rachel didn’t want to cross any lines because she’d never been able to say ‘no’ and she thought she owed it to Quinn not to cross any lines. They weren’t exclusive, but Rachel thought she owed it to Quinn anyway. So she kept throwing back drinks to ease her tension and she was already pretty drunk when she remembered she was the one driving that night. “Fuck,” Rachel thought, knowing that Cindy would have to drive now, and she’d pretty much be at the other girl’s mercy.

She’d woken up in Quinn’s room the next day with no memory of how she got there. Quinn seemed angry and suspicious and Rachel couldn’t blame her. She did her best to try to appease her. But it didn’t seem to work because Quinn got even meaner to her after that, and no matter how many times Rachel asked her if she’d said something embarrassing, hurtful or incriminating, Quinn denied it. But it was the way Quinn denied it-- all flat, and angry and Rachel just wished that she knew what she’d done. She wished she could just pull it together, but she felt so lost, she had no idea where to begin. She knew she could present a good face to the world, but underneath it, she had no idea what to do, and she just knew Quinn must have felt so misled, like she’d been conned. Rachel knew Quinn probably thought this would be fun and easy, but instead she was making Quinn miserable and Rachel didn’t know how to stop.

And Rachel wasn’t really sure why what she did was so wrong, because they were only dating. And granted they were dating exclusively, but that was more because there was a dearth of dateable people, not because they only wanted to be with each other. Quinn made that really clear to her on multiple occasions. So Rachel didn’t _get_ why Quinn seemed so angry with her, all the time. But it was obvious she’d hurt Quinn, so she just kept her mouth shut and hoped that Quinn would relent. And she did.

Things were better for a while, until she found Quinn searching through one of her drawers. Quinn was probably just looking for a pen or something, but it’d momentarily stunned her to see Quinn looking through it and then demanding she explain what “all this shit” was. They were mementos of her relationships, and though they’d confused her and made her feel awful about herself, they’d been meaningful to her, too. Quinn became angry about the fact that some of the things she’d given Rachel were stuffed in that drawer, too, and Rachel had to explain that their relationship really didn’t feel all that different. It killed Rachel to admit it out loud because she’d wanted it to be different, and in a lot of important ways, it was. But Quinn could be so mean and disparaging and Rachel found herself losing self-respect for just taking it. She may not have been just some fuck toy for Quinn, but it was pretty clear to Rachel that she was still just a toy.

\--

But Quinn exceeded her expectations. When Rachel told Quinn “the ball’s in your court,” she really thought Quinn would either cut her lose or nothing would change. But it _did_ change, and Quinn softly pleaded for her to not “lump” her in with “them.” And for a while, things were better, and Quinn really did set herself apart.

For a while, things were so so good. Things were _fun_. They hung out, watched movies, practiced for Glee, studied, ate dinner, got coffee-- all the normal couple stuff. And they talked-- really talked, and not just about stuff like favorite colors (Quinn, green. Rachel, surprisingly, not pink, gold or purple, but blue) but how they really felt about stuff.

But even when things get better, things still tend to return to normal, and that was exactly what happened. She tried to make an effort to be better, too, but she couldn’t sustain it, either.

Quinn was mean to her again, and Rachel let her be, and soon it felt like Quinn was far away. She started tuning Quinn out, she stopped wanting to spend so much time with the blonde. She started to check out, mentally, when they were together. She started communicating with her exes a little more-- she’d always been in touch with them, but her contact with them diminished when she started dating Quinn. She started to pick it up again. She told herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong, because she wasn’t cheating and she and Quinn weren’t exclusive anyway. But she knew she came off as blank and indifferent again. She knew this only hurt Quinn more, that it made Quinn be even meaner to her, but by this point, their cycle of hurt was so vicious, Rachel really didn’t care anymore. She was just waiting for it to be over.

Quinn found some text messages on her phone, and at first, Rachel was annoyed Quinn looked through her phone. Rachel wasn’t cheating and she resented the implication that she would. But she felt a twinge of guilt once she saw the text from Cindy that got Quinn so irate, because Cindy had been sending her a lot of dirty text messages and pictures that week, but Rachel just deleted them because she honestly wasn’t interested.  
  
The fight was bad. It wasn’t the worst fight she ever had, but it definitely ranked fairly high up on the list. At first, it was one-sided, and she decided Quinn had a right to be mad, so Rachel resolved herself to just sit there and take it, because maybe she deserved to be yelled at. But Quinn just brought so much into it-- stuff that she didn’t have to bring up, and there were all these accusations being hurled and Rachel just felt herself explode. She knew she was too angry to deal with Quinn-- Rachel didn’t get angry all that much, contrary to popular opinion. She got irritated, frustrated and upset, and sometimes she acted maliciously or vindictively, but genuine anger? She didn’t get angry often enough for people to _really_ understand how horrible she could be to someone when she was angry-- if they did, no one would Slushie her. She knew she’d scared Quinn during their fight, because she’d scared herself.

Just as Quinn brought up awful, hurtful things just because Quinn knew her better now, so her insults and barbs could be a little more pointed, Rachel brought up awful, hurtful things she knew about Quinn, too. And it was so much worse than when they didn’t like each other and just sniped at one another-- because they really hadn’t known each other then. They fought and they _really_ fought, every awful thing they said to one another was intended to hurt one another and because Rachel had been deeply hurt by the things Quinn said, she knew she hurt Quinn, too.

Rachel just assumed that they broke up. The fight was so bad, and she was _so_ harsh with Quinn-- by the end of the fight, Rachel was saying such _ugly_ things and Quinn had fallen silent and was just standing there, staring at her and _bawling_. Rachel just assumed that not only had their foray into dating come to an end, but so had their friendship. Quinn didn’t seem to want to talk to her, and Rachel didn’t blame her, so she didn’t try to talk to the blonde. The blonde didn’t seem to have any desire to be anywhere _near_ her, and again, Rachel didn’t blame her. All this time, she thought she was treated other people better than how people treated her, but she was just as bad.

The text from him came four days after the fight with Quinn, and a part of her groaned because the texts she exchanged with him had been a large part of the fight. She _still_ had him labeled as ‘Fantastic J’ because they both loved _The Fantastic Mr. Fox_. He texted her if she wanted to grab some matzo ball soup at _Leo’s Deli_ , and initially she was going to delete the text and his number (as if that would have helped, considering she had it memorized), but then she thought, ‘screw it,’ and said ‘yes’ because he knew that was comfort food for her.

The whole thing started up again. A couple hours later, she found herself flat on her back, wanting to say no, but being unable to and wondering who the _fuck_ stole her voice. She hated herself even more and her depression over Quinn was even further compounded. He still drove drunk and she stopped caring that she was in the car with him.

They ran into Quinn, Santana and Brittany at Dahlia’s, and Rachel was mortified they knew that he was drunk. And she was mortified that they all knew she’d chosen to go with him rather than seeing a movie with them. But she just loved him _so_ much and for whatever reason, she felt better about his safety as long as she was in the car with him. As he weaved along State Street to go back to his house, she thought about how stupid she’d been, about all the ridiculous choices she’d made for herself when it came to him.

She refused to go into his house with him and she walked home after that. It was only a few miles-- less than what she ran every day. She thought about how she loved him, but how that had morphed into more of a friendship kind of love. How she’d actually fallen in love with _Quinn_ and how awful it felt to leave Quinn behind and walk away with _him_. How that choice felt totally wrong, and not just because he was intoxicated.

She texted Quinn when she got home, and Quinn called her immediately in response. She got an earful, and Rachel knew she completely deserved it.

So she told Quinn the truth-- that she didn’t want them to be mad at each other again, and she really had missed Quinn. They agreed to start again, and it was like a huge burden was lifted.  
\--


	4. Enter Prince Charming part 2

**Title:** Enter Prince Charming  
**Author:** Sulkygeek  
**Rating:** R just to be safe for some sexual references  
**Length:** 14,000 [a+b]  
**Spoilers:** Through Sectionals, includes some spoilers I read for the upcoming season, but nothing too in-depth.  
**Summary:** Follow-up to ‘Fault’ and ‘Woke Up New’ This is more of a Rachel POV. I know it's too long, but blame my one and half year old daughter, the insomniac.

* * *

  
It was better the second time around, not perfect, but better.

She made a sincere effort to be better to Quinn, to be nicer and more attentive. She tried to stop using bad relationships, as damaging as they’d been, as cop-outs for not treating Quinn as well as she deserved to be treated. Quinn treated her better than either of her shitty exes, and Lord knew that Quinn was infinitely more respectful. It was just inexcusable to be less sweet to Quinn than she’d been to her crappy exes. And Rachel _really_ tried to stop behaving as though she were indifferent to Quinn, because she wasn’t.

She was still deeply afraid that if she let herself fall too in love, if she started _showing_ it, then she’d get dangerously close to losing her self-respect all over again, and she was only just starting to gain a little bit of it back. But Quinn started being sweeter to her, and things were better between them and it got to a point where she had to make a choice: either she held back and pretended like she didn’t care about Quinn as much as she actually did and lose her self-respect anyway (because Quinn was trying and _she_ didn’t seem to be holding back) or she just threw herself into it and let Quinn knew just how much she cared and feel like at least she was earning the affection Quinn was giving her and stop feeling horrible about herself for not being as good to Quinn and Quinn was to her.  
\--  
Rachel started to remember the things that attracted her to Quinn in the first place. They’d just hang out for no particular reason and watch something random on television. They watched a _lot_ of terrible movies on cable and gave commentary on it more than they actually watched it. But also watched regular TV shows, stuff like _Gossip Girl_ and _True Blood_ , but their special guilty pleasures were those medical emergency shows where the camera followed the doctors into the emergency room and History Channel documentaries because Quinn liked to imitate the narrators.

There were so many nights in which they’d watch a compound fracture be set or blood gush out of a gaping wound and they’d shriek, grab hands and share a guilty laugh because that was actually happening to a real person, it wasn’t _Grey’s Anatomy_ or something. There was one night in particular that Rachel remembered fairly vividly. They were watching some documentary on European History and Quinn got excited and exclaimed how that was around the Defenestration of Prague and launched into this little ramble which left Rachel staring blankly.

“Come on!” Quinn exclaimed. “The Defenestration of Prague!”

Rachel continued to stare. “What?”

“We learned about it last year in Stein’s class!”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t remember. Was it something pretty small? Relatively speaking in the context of the entire history of Europe?”

“Well, I do remember,” Quinn huffed, ignoring the question entirely. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. She started at the TV for a moment and then turned to look back at Rachel, who was still staring at the blonde. “Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of nerd just because I remembered something we studied last year!”

Rachel bit her lip, amused. She smiled crookedly at Quinn. “On the contrary,” She leaned in and ran her hand through the blonde’s hair. “I thought that was _really_ sexy.”

There were a lot of things she noticed about Quinn again, things she’d already known but somehow deliberately ignored. It really was like stating over, at least for Rachel, because she didn’t feel so lost in this _fog_. She really _saw_ Quinn for who she was behind the bitchy mean girl exterior, behind the put-downs and snarky comments and underneath all the confusion and fragile self-esteem. Quinn was smart and insightful. She was also _really_ funny and God, she was so talented. It wasn’t just about the music, either, she was a good dancer and she great at art. They’d hang out, drinking coffee or something and talking, and then Rachel would look at Quinn’s napkin and realize Quinn had sketched a really good rendering of everything going on around them. Quinn was always ready to just throw them away, but Rachel always grabbed them to keep them because they were _good_.

And yeah, Quinn could be bitchy to her sometimes, but Quinn could also be really sweet. Rachel wasn’t looking for Quinn to change 180 degrees-- Quinn wouldn’t be the same without a few barbs or the occasional tirade and skewering comment. All Rachel was really looking for was that when Quinn said those things to her, it wasn’t out of malice-- and most of the time, it wasn’t. Quinn wasn’t looking to _hurt_ her, she was just a little prickly, and _that_ was something Rachel could deal with. The mean comments specifically designed to dig and burrow inside? Not so much. But Quinn was getting better at that and Rachel thought it was sincere.

\--

The first time she had sex with Quinn was the best first time she’d ever had with anyone. Quinn was the first person who _waited_ until she was ready. Well, that was unfair, because Noah waited, but the whole point of seeing him was sex, so he didn’t count. Quinn _waited_ and she was so patient and when it finally happened, Rachel knew for sure they both wanted it.

It’d been one of her biggest fears that she’d somehow make Quinn feel obliged or forced, the way she’d felt obliged and forced. She’d come to love Quinn so much and she knew she wanted it, but just as Quinn had been patient with her, she wanted to do the same with Quinn. She knew firsthand how it felt if the person who claimed to love you didn’t care if you were ready or not-- and it made you think that person never really loved you at all.

It wasn’t the most perfect night ever or anything, but it was close.

Rachel was nervous after that, because from what she’d experienced, if it happened once, the other person tended to assume it was _always_ going to happen. The first time she had sex with Cindy and Jess, she didn’t even have a chance to say ‘yes,’ it just kind of happened and she experienced a moment of panic because she didn’t know what was going on. It happened first with Cin, and then with J, and she’d come to assume that was just the way it was going to be with everyone. But it wasn’t like that, at least, not with Quinn.  
\--  
They got closer, spent even more time together and yeah, absolutely they had sex a few more times, but each time, they both agreed on it. It was a _real_ relationship and although they hadn’t put a title on it yet, Rachel stopped rationalizing it to herself that they were only dating each other because there was no one else to date-- they didn’t _want_ to date anyone else.

Then there was the night she screwed it all up again. They’d been kissing and it got more heated. Clothes were being unbuttoned, unzipped and it was all okay. But then Quinn started to become a little more aggressive and it _okay_. But she didn’t exactly want it that way either. Then she was aware of was Quinn’s hands on both her arms, shaking her. Quinn’s face was hovering extremely close and Quinn was shouting her name.

Rachel pushed her away. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Quinn exhaled. “What am _I_ doing? What are _you_ doing?” she asked, trembling. “You were completely out of it.”  
Rachel frowned. “What?”

Quinn grabbed Rachel’s hands and blew on them. “Your hands are freezing. Are you okay?”

Rachel scowled and jerked her hands away. Her hands did feel especially cold. “What are you talking about?” she repeated.

Quinn looked worried. She swallowed hard. “Are you screwing with me?” she asked softly. “Don’t screw with me.”

“Quinn, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Quinn touched Rachel’s forehead. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked. “Did something happen?” she asked hesitantly. “You just…” Quinn grimaced. “It was so _weird_ ,” she said softly.

And it really had been. One moment, they were kissing and it was definitely more heated than usual. Quinn was only half dressed when she unbuttoned Rachel’s blouse and Rachel didn’t seem to mind-- she seemed to like it, in fact. Soon, Rachel’s bra came off and Quinn was pulling Rachel’s skirt down and again, Rachel seemed fine. They’d already had sex a couple times by then, and so Quinn just assumed things were progressing. She slipped her leg between Rachel’s legs and they were kissing and she let her hands kind of…roam and suddenly, Rachel stopped kissing back. But by then Quinn was ready to move downward. She was kissing Rachel’s breasts and her hands were roaming over Rachel’s body when she realized Rachel wasn’t responding or reciprocating, she was just lying there. Her skin was suddenly _so_ cold and she was just staring up at the ceiling, completely expressionless. Quinn asked her a couple times if she was okay, but Rachel didn’t respond. She shook Rachel a couple times, but again, Rachel didn’t respond. It finally took Quinn shaking Rachel fairly hard and shouting her name for Rachel to finally respond, looking at her blankly and demanding what _she_ was doing.

Rachel was crimson with embarrassment as Quinn finished her explanation and she was mortified. She suddenly realized how exposed she was, and felt so raw. She grabbed a blanket off the floor and covered herself with it.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel apologized, wishing she could just crawl off somewhere and die in mortification. “Get dressed and I’ll drive you home.”

She felt so miserable. It was just that sometimes, she had sex when she really didn’t want to, and it wasn’t that she was _really_ forced into it. But she didn’t really want to, and no one asked her if she wanted to, and sometimes, she just found it easier if she just stared up at the ceiling and checked out. But she never really realized just how much she checked out because no one said anything to her. Until now.

Quinn looked scared. “Did I hurt you?”

Rachel shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know what happened,” she lied.

Actually, she did. It was just…it was a lot more aggressive than her previous interactions with Quinn, and it’d sort of taken her aback. She really hadn’t been ready for that. Quinn was rougher than Rachel had been accustomed to, and when Quinn seemed to want to take things further, Rachel really hadn’t wanted to. They’d had sex a few times before, but it wasn’t like they were rabbits or something At some point, she felt a little deflated, like, well, here she was again, and then she felt herself check out. But really, she hadn’t realized how totally she was checked out.

Quinn looked baffled and worried. “Do you… like, a medical condition or something you haven’t told me about?” she asked. “I’m not trying to be a bitch!” she added quickly, seeing the look on Rachel’s face. “It’s just…it was really scary. You were totally out of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Rachel apologized, wishing she could just curl up somewhere. “I ruined everything. Let’s just get dressed and I’ll drive you home. Okay?”

Quinn hesitantly reached out toward her and cupped Rachel’s cheek. “Did _I_ do something wrong?” she asked worriedly. “Because you…looked _scared_ ,” she added quietly. “Of me.”

“Just fucking drop it!” Rachel demanded, exasperated. “Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

“But if I did something to--”

“You didn’t,” Rachel snapped. “So shut up and get dressed and I’ll drive you home.”

The moment she said it, Rachel wished she could take it back. Quinn cringed and then Rachel thought Quinn would say something snippy towards her, the way they always sniped at one another. But God, instead, Quinn said this really soft “okay” and put her top back on. And then Rachel got re-dressed and she grabbed her purse and keys and Quinn just followed behind her.

Rachel dropped Quinn off, and she wanted to say something, anything, to make the situation better. But she was so _mortified_ , so they sat for a moment in the car once Rachel put it in park. And she felt Quinn stare at her, but Rachel stared straight ahead and then Quinn said “bye” and Rachel just waited for Quinn to get out and shut the door. Then she drove herself home.

\--

She faked sick the next day to stay home from school and bummed around the house, berating herself for being such a fucking weirdo. God, what was wrong with her? Quinn sent her a couple of texts “are you okay?” and “do you need anything?” but she chose not to respond. Quinn called her a couple times, too, but Rachel chose to allow it to go to voicemail. She skipped Glee that day, too, she just didn’t think she could face Quinn. Her humiliation was just too acute.

But then she tried to think about it from Quinn’s perspective, because if she were in Quinn’s shoes, she’d be freaking out right now. So she thought it wasn’t unreasonable to assume Quinn probably was freaking out. And Quinn hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t Quinn’s fault.

So she went to Quinn’s. Quinn’s grandmother let her in, and they talked pleasantly for a few minutes before Rachel walked up the stairs to Quinn’s room, her heart thumping in her chest the entire way. She paused in front of the door and took a deep breath before she knocked.

“Come in,” Quinn called.

Rachel took another deep breath and opened the door. “Hi,” she said quietly.

Quinn’s eyes widened. “ _Hi_ ,” she said softly, getting up from the bed. She took a few steps toward Rachel but then stopped. “I didn’t think you’d come over…”

Rachel wrung her hands together nervously, unable to look Quinn in the eye. She stared down at the ground. “Look, about yesterday…you didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me. I was a total freak and I just took it out on you. I take full responsibility, and I’m really sorry.” She looked up and gave Quinn a frail smile. “I’m going to go, I’ll…give you some time to think or…whatever.”

“Rach, wait.” Quinn said, stepping toward Rachel. “I don’t…I don’t care about what happened last night. I just need to know. Did I do something wrong? What did I do? Because you were just…you were gone. You were _scared_ of me.”

Rachel made a face and rubbed her cheek in frustration. “I wasn’t scared of you!” she exclaimed, “God, never! It’s just…I kind of checked out,” she admitted. “I do that sometimes, I guess.”

Quinn bit her lip. “I don’t understand,” she said quietly.

Rachel took a few steps back. “I just…” she faltered. “It’s just...when I was dating Cin and J…I don’t know, I didn’t always feel like doing it, but they wanted to, so it just seemed easier to kind of…check out. But I didn’t mean to do that with you.”

“Wait, you didn’t want to?” Quinn asked, taking a few steps closer. “They forced you? They made--”

“No one made me do anything!” Rachel refuted hotly. “I just didn’t say ‘no.’ And I guess yesterday…I mean…I wanted to, but I guess maybe I also didn’t want to and I kind of checked out. But I didn’t mean to like…I didn’t mean for yesterday to happen.”

Quinn looked completely freaked out and Rachel but her lower lip, fidgeting under the way Quinn looked at her.

“Okay,” Rachel said, looking down at her shoes. “So I’m going to go. I’ll give you some space.”

Quinn reached for her and caught Rachel by one of her elbows. “I would _never_ force you into anything. Never,” she added emphatically.

Rachel pulled away. “I told you,” she said crossly. “No one forced me. I was just too much of a coward to say no.” Rachel crossed her arms in front of herself. “And sometimes it was just easier to kind of lay there and check out.”

Quinn looked even more fearful. “Have I ever made you feel forced into it?” she asked quietly.

“ _No_ ,” Rachel said emphatically. “I don’t know what happened yesterday, okay? It’s just… I mean, I don’t know what happened. I’m just really sorry, and can we just _drop_ this because I’m _sorry_ and I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say here, Quinn.”

“I’m not asking you to apologize!” Quinn exclaimed. “But Jesus Christ, Rachel. You basically just told me that I almost raped you last night and--”

“ _What_?!” Rachel shrieked. “It wasn’t anything like that! I just---” Rachel took a shaky breath. “ _You_ never forced me into anything. _Ever_. That’s what makes you different. I could _never_ say ‘no’ even when I wanted to. And fuck, okay, yes, sometimes I did feel forced. But I never said no, so who the _fuck_ am I supposed to blame for that? Sometimes it was just easier to lay there, stare up at the ceiling and I’d blank out and nothing would hurt and I didn’t feel like someone’s _toilet_ for once, okay? And I don’t know what happened last night because it’s _never_ like that with you. But you…it was different last night, it was never like that between us before and I freaked out and I’m _sorry_ okay? I ruined everything and I’ll do _anything_. I swear.” Rachel moved closer to Quinn. “Whatever you want,” she pleaded, and God, she felt so pathetic, and she knew this is exactly what would happen. She’d fall in love and get so stupid pathetic desperate. “I get if you want to break up, I don’t blame you. But I’ll _prove_ to you-- you can do _whatever_ you want to me and it’ll be _fine_ \--”

Rachel began unbuttoning her shirt and Quinn’s eyes widened in horror.

“Stop it!” Quinn cried. She flung her hands out to still Rachel’s hands “God, Rachel,” she breathed “I’d never force you. I’d never want you to do something you don’t want to. That’s not why I’m with you.”

“I made a mistake yesterday, but I promise--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Quinn exclaimed. “God,” she breathed. “I can’t…I can’t even…what did I do to you last night?” she asked.

“You didn’t do anything wrong! It was _normal_. I just… I freaked out.”

“Well, what did _they_ do when that happened? Because Rachel, I was so scared. I was going to call an ambulance. I thought you were having an aneurysm or something. I mean, your face just got _so_ white, and you weren’t moving, you weren’t even blinking!”

Rachel shrugged. “I guess they never noticed,” she said flatly. “Look, can we just _drop_ this? I mean, this is embarrassing enough.”

“No, we can’t just _drop_ this!”

“Last night was a fluke, I promise,” Rachel pleaded. “You just…you don’t understand.”

“So help me understand, Rachel! Because from where I’m standing, you freaked out because of _me_ , that I did something to scare the shit out of _you_.” She paused. “I think you might have had a panic attack.”

Rachel snorted. “It was not a panic attack,” she scoffed. She sighed and took a few steps forward. “Quinn,” she said softly. “Everything between us has been _glacial_ and I think it’s been good for both of us, right?”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed.

“It wasn’t always like that for me,” Rachel said. “My first time with Cindy, we were making out in my bed and suddenly my clothes were coming off and just…I wasn’t ready. She didn’t even _ask_ me. She _never_ asked me. And it was just so fast. And it was the same with J. We were at Westin Point looking down at the city, and we got into his backseat and he just…he started taking off my clothes and then he was on top of me and it just…he didn’t _ask_ me. They both just assumed. It was _never_ like that with you, okay? I promise you, last night, it was a fluke. If it happens again, we can talk about it then. But I don’t want to keep talking about this. It’s _humiliating_ for me.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “That’s why you were always taking things so slow with me,” she said quietly. “I mean, it took you _forever_ just to kiss me. And I really…I really appreciated that you weren’t ready to have sex either, because I _definitely_ wasn’t ready. But there was more to it than that, wasn’t there?”

Rachel gave her a grim, sad smile. “It’s the worst feeling in the world to feel like someone’s toilet. I just wanted to make sure you were sure, that you felt like you could say ‘no,’ if you wanted to. I wasn’t always good to you, but I wanted to be better than _that_.”

Quinn swallowed hard. “You can always say ‘no,’ to me, Rach.”

“I know.”

\--

They worked out a system after that. It wasn’t particularly sexy because it mainly involved verbally asking for permission and periodically asking “is this okay? Are you sure?” but soon it evolved to non-verbal signals, which, again, weren’t particularly sexy because it involved discussing it ahead of time and saying things like, “if I pull your hair, it means I’m asking you for permission,” but soon enough it evolved to completely non-verbal cues that didn’t involve discussing what those things meant in advance. They soon recognized the way their eyes looked when they wanted it, the way they breathed and moaned and they became less timid to touch one another. And then one day, they realized the fear was gone.

They’d been making out on Rachel’s bed and she touched Quinn between her legs, but over her jeans and she realized that Quinn was so wet, that she could feel Quinn through her jeans. And Quinn stared up at her, eyes even darker than usual.

Rachel was already unbuttoning Quinn’s jeans when the blonde told her “take my pants off” in a low growl that made Rachel’s insides twitch.

\--

Things got even easier after that, and it really wasn’t so much about the sex as it was that they _finally_ got everything out on the table. Rachel couldn’t remember a time in her life she’d been happier and she was even more gratified because _Quinn_ looked happy, too.  
\--

There was a mini flare up when there was an unofficial New Directions versus Vocal Adrenaline throwdown held at McKinley.

Rachel felt her stomach ache at the prospect of it, but the two choir directors laid down the challenge to each other, so she had no choice. She caught a glimpse of that girl, Daisy, the one that Quinn derisively referred to as “cartoon looking.” Daisy winked, smiled and waved at her and Rachel felt herself blush. She unconsciously ducked her head and then peeked back up at Daisy who was still looking at her. Daisy gave her a crooked smile and Rachel felt herself smile unconsciously back.

Quinn elbowed Rachel in the ribs and gave the brunette a death glare. “So sorry that _I_ didn’t dress like Betty Boob.”

“Betty Boop.”

“I _know_.”

Quinn was still ranting when Rachel caught sight of her former boyfriend. She swallowed hard and stared at him. He stared back and waved at her. She gave him a stilted smile.

“You okay?” Quinn asked quietly.

Rachel glanced at her. The blonde looked like she wanted to yell, but then thought better of it, which Rachel appreciated. Quinn had that look on her face when the blonde was two seconds away from blowing up at her and then reined it in.

“Yeah,” Rachel said,

Things were okay until after the competition was over. Rachel was walking to the bathroom when she felt herself grabbed and pulled into an empty classroom. She came face to face with her former boyfriend. His hand was still wrapped around her wrist and she yanked it away.

“J, what the _hell_?”

“I missed you,” he explained simply. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you alone.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m seeing someone and it’s serious. I _can’t_ be with you right now.”

“There is no way you’re going to convince me that they’re more important to you than I am,” he said softly. “Not after everything. You and me, we’re practically made for each other.”

“J,” Rachel sighed. “ _Fuck_. Don’t do this, okay? I’m seeing someone and it’s serious and _really_ important.”

He brushed some hair out of her face. “Brown Eyes,” he said softly. “I’ve missed you. We could start over, you and me. I mean, we’re _both_ going to Julliard in the Fall. It only makes sense. We aren’t going to be some high school relationship that ends by Thanksgiving of freshman year. We’re going to be _together_. It makes sense. We make sense. Way more than you and _anyone_ else in this hellhole of a town.”

She stared up at him and released a soft sigh. None of this was new. This was the stuff they’d always planned on back when they were together.

“It was good between us,” he said.

“Yeah,” Rachel breathed.

He moved in to kiss her.

Rachel put her hand on his chest and pushed. “Don’t,” she said quietly. “Don’t. I told you. I’m with someone.”

“Brown Eyes, whoever it is, they don’t love you like I love you.”

“Maybe not, but…”

He interrupted her by brushing his lips against hers.

“Don’t!” Rachel exclaimed. She pushed him away.

He reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. “Just talk to me! Who the _hell_ could you have found in this town? Everyone here is a fucking Lima Loser!”

“Not everyone!” Rachel said, trying to yank her hand away. “ _Ow_ ,” she said. “Will you let go?!” she demanded.

He let go. “Come here,” he said softly. But instead of letting her come to him, he inched closer to her. He lowered his head, his lips close to hers.

“ _No_ ,” Rachel said firmly. “No. Stop it. I told you, _don’t_. I’m seeing someone and I am _not_ going to keep screwing it up. So stop it!” She glared at him and grabbed the door to leave. She threw it open and saw her extremely angry girlfriend.

Fuck.

“It’s not what you think!” Rachel said.

Quinn just looked at her. Quinn then looked at him and with a shriek leaped toward him. Quinn’s body was practically parallel to the ground as she tackled him to the ground, scratching at his face and pulling at his hair.

“Quinn! I didn’t do anything with him!”

“I know!” Quinn shouted, slapping at his head and face

Rachel wrapped her arms around Quinn’s waist and pulled. She yanked Quinn off him. Quinn was straddling his prone body and hitting him.

“You better go,” Rachel told him.

He scrambled away. “Good luck,” he said. “I don’t think she’s as forgiving as you are.”

Once they were alone, Rachel shut the door to the classroom and looked at Quinn almost fearfully. “I didn’t do anything.”

“I know. I saw him grab you, so I followed you. I heard everything.”

Rachel blinked. “Then why did you tackle him to the ground?”

“I don’t know!” Quinn exclaimed in a huff. “It just kind of happened!” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t like the way he talked to you.”

“You shouldn’t have attacked him, even though it was extremely girly and not even remotely intimidating.”

“Well, he got out of here pretty fast for someone who wasn’t intimidated!”

“Santana would have punched him.”

“Santana has anger management classes in her future.”

Rachel was amused. It was clear Quinn wasn’t angry with her, and didn’t think she did something inappropriate with him, so now she was amused at the way Quinn was Cat Fight Status, all hair pulling, scratching and slapping. But still, she didn’t think Quinn should have attacked him.

“It’s wrong for you to have attacked him,” Rachel said.

Quinn scowled. “Why are you being protective of him?”

“I’m not,” Rachel said. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Well, it just kind of happened,” Quinn huffed. “What, are you like, mad at me over this or something, because if anyone should be mad, it should be me and--”

Rachel put her fingers over Quinn’s mouth. “I’m not mad,” she said with a crooked grin. She stood up on tip toe and licked her tongue across Quinn’s collar bone. “It was…hot.”

Quinn released a strangled breath when she felt Rachel’s fingers slip under her skirt. “ _Oh_.”

\--  
Rachel got sick right before finals exams that year. Santana sniffed derisively, “who gets sick in the summer? My grandmother says that not even dogs get colds in the summer.”

But Rachel was legitimately sick—missing school and having to go to the doctor and everything.

She was half asleep, and half awake one day when she felt her bed sink slightly and she cocked open one eye to see Quinn sitting next to her.

“Hi,” Quinn said softly, she brushed some of Rachel’s hair out of her face. “Your dad let me in.”

Rachel grinned at her. “Hi.”

Quinn held up a worn out stuffed penguin. “Barry Pelican wanted to say hi to you. He wants you to feel better, too.”

Rachel grinned. “You know I still think it’s weird that you named your stuffed penguin ‘pelican.’”

“His name is _Barry_ Pelican,” Quinn said, almost whining. “Rachel, I told you, his first name is Barry, his last name is Pelican.”

“I know, honey,” Rachel said, reaching for Quinn and then thinking better of it because she didn’t want to get Quinn sick, too. “Maybe I should have said ‘cute,’ because that’s what I really think.”

Quinn snorted. “You’re being patronizing, but I’ll allow it because you’re sick.”

Rachel rubbed at her eyes and then sighed. “I’ve missed you,” she said, shutting her eyes because they were sore and she just wanted to rest.

Quinn swallowed hard. “I’ve missed you, too,” she said, swallowing back the lump that suddenly rose in her throat. She reached out to touch Rachel’s forehead. “You’re still so warm,” she said worriedly. “You’ve already missed a week of school.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachel said peeking her eyes open. “I’ll be back soon.” She rolled from her stomach onto her back. She sighed contentedly as Quinn stroked her hair and closed her eyes again. “That feels good.”

“Good.”

Rachel sat up. “I must look so gross right now,” she said with a chuckle.

“You’re beautiful, Quinn assured.

Rachel told herself it must be love because she knew she was looking a little rough. This flu had knocked her on her ass for eight full days and she was _not_ looking good. At first she’d been self-conscious about Quinn seeing her when was _so_ not looking well, but then she thought that Quinn wouldn’t care, and the blonde hadn’t. And Rachel felt that if Quinn could still find her attractive when she looked like _this_ , it must be love.

“I have something for you,” Rachel said with a tiny smile. She blushed. “I know you will think that I’m a nerd, but just remember I had a lot of time on my hands and not very much to occupy myself.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Did you _make_ me something?”

Rachel blushed even deeper. “I…” she trailed off and opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out a leather bound album. She shoved it into Quinn’s hands. “I made you a scrapbook,” she declared, sounding anguished and threw herself face down on the bed and buried her face into the pillow. She was so embarrassed for herself.

Quinn laughed and patted Rachel’s back. “You made me a _scrapbook_?!” she asked incredulously, breaking off into giggles. “Oh my God, what are you? 50?”

Rachel groaned and clutched her sheets. “I was _bored_ ,” she said. “I didn’t have anything else to do except sleep and do homework.”

Quinn laughed and pulled Rachel up. “Come on. Show it off to me.”

Rachel was still beet-red. “It’s a scrapbook of us,” she mumbled. She palmed the side of her neck, staring down at her lap.

Quinn opened it and found a close-up of she and Rachel at Sectionals during their sophomore year. She raised an eyebrow.

“That was before you and me were…” Rachel trailed off. “You and me.”

Quinn smiled. “I remembered.”

The more Quinn flipped through the pages, however, the less inclined she was to make fun. She swallowed hard as their relationship was meticulously documented-- business cards from restaurants where they’d gone on dates, napkins with her sketches on them, ticket stubs from movies and concerts, programs from various Glee competitions, free postcards from coffee houses they’d frequented, photographs, dried flowers, Post-its they’d left for each other-- everything was a reminder that stirred a very acute memory with Rachel.

“You seriously kept all this stuff?” Quinn asked, swallowing hard.

Rachel blushed. “I could…I couldn’t just throw it all away. And I…” she cleared her. “I wanted to remember.”

Quinn shut the book and clutched it close to her chest. “You’re such a dork,” she breathed. “But I _love_ it.”

Rachel smiled crookedly. “Do you really?”

Quinn nodded emphatically. “So I guess you’re really into me, huh?” she asked with a grin.

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Don’t get so egotistical.” She pushed Quinn away.

Quinn reached for her. “No, seriously,” she said softly. “You’re into me, right?” she asked quietly. “You aren’t…you know, playing a role or playing along? You’re really into me?”

Rachel looked at her. “How long have we been doing this for?”

“A while,” Quinn said with a tiny smile.

Rachel chuckled. “Yeah,” she agreed affectionately. “A _while_ ,” she echoed. “A while is all it takes to fall in love, right?”

Quinn smiled. “Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence and then Quinn spoke again.

“I _really_ need you answer the question though,” she said, blushing furiously. “I really need to hear you say it.”

Rachel smiled. “I’m into you,” she said softly, cheeks turning pink. She reached for the scrapbook and gently pulled it out of Quinn’s hands and opened it. She grabbed a pen from off her night stand. “I, Rachel Berry,” she said as she wrote. “Do solemnly concede that I am very fond of Quinn Fabray.”

“Wait a minute,” Quinn demanded. “ _Concede_? _Fond_ You’re _conceding_ that you’re _fond_ me?!”

Rachel grinned. “Well, it did happen very grudgingly.”

“It happened grudgingly for me, too! Even more for me than for you! I can’t believe you’d write that and--”

“Quinn,” Rachel said with a chuckle. She held up the book so that the page she’d written on faced Quinn. “Relax.”

Quinn narrowed her eyes but moved in closer and then she read:

‘Q,

I’m in love with you. Really.

-R’

Quinn felt tears prick her eyes, but she swatted at Rachel’s knee instead. “You deceived me.”

“I think ‘trick,’ is the more appropriate terminology here,” Rachel complained, rubbing her knee.

Quinn gave Rachel a look, but reached for the book and the pen.

She wrote in it and then she held it up to show it to Rachel.

R,

‘I’m in love with you, too.’

-Q

When Rachel was little, she totally loved fairy tales and princesses and all that kind of stuff. This would come as a shock to _no one_ who knew her. She grew up thinking there would be a Prince Charming in her life, one day. And then one day, she realized that she might have a Princess Charming. But the more she dated, the more she felt that all that was truly relegated to the world of fairy tale, that it did not exist. That relationships were really all about losing her self-respect and doing things she didn’t want and just giving up pieces of herself just to get through the night. She started dating Quinn and she became convinced that it would be the same way with Quinn, too.

But Quinn was different.

Rachel stared hard at Quinn’s handwritten admission of love. “Enter Prince Charming,” she breathed.

Quinn looked at her quizzically. “What?” she asked. “Are you delirious?”

Rachel smiled at her. “No,” she said quietly. “Just thinking out loud.” She palmed Quinn’s cheek and her smiled deepened when Quinn smiled shyly at her. Her fingers grazed down Quinn’s cheek. “We’re just getting started.”

Quinn smiled. “Yeah.”

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Fault  
> http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/25245.html  
> Sequel:   
> Woke Up New  
> http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/25397.html  
> Sequel  
> Enter Prince Charming  
> 1a:http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/25752.html  
> 1b:http://sulkygeekff.livejournal.com/25988.html


End file.
